Kill Soul
by Rikku Madara Uchiha
Summary: "That woman deserves her revenge, and we deserve to die... But, then again; so does she." sorta SoMa, rated for language&gore
1. Prologue

if u actually came back for my reverb thank u! anyway, here's some info:  
in the spirit of Kill Bill, you're gonna see some italics throughout the story; it's the pov of 'the bride'

 _This Pasadena home-marker's name is Jeanne Bell; her husband is the good Dr. Lawrence Bell. But back when we were acquainted four years ago, her name was Vernita Green. Her code name, was Copperhead. Mine, Black Mamba._

^^ an example from this scene in the movie would be her informing the viewer of the relationship, status, and identity of her target. also, since there's some brief narrations from 'hattori hanzo' those will be underlined and italicised.

when a member of the squad is introduced, it'll be the same as when they're introduced in the movie; with their name underlined and all the text about them will be bolded. (i also kept the names from nosub's artwork!)

and our "bride" will not be named for a long ass time, but i'm sure you can figure out who it is... anyway, i hope my take on this excellent movie & artwork is as great as i want it to be - so here it is!

* * *

prologue

""REVENGE IS A DISH BEST SERVED COLD"" - old Klingon proverb

Soul picked at his nails absently, faintly hearing Liz's ringer go off. She stepped to the side, pressing a hand to her ear so she could understand the client on the phone. She shouted back in German, before cutting herself off; she lowered her voice before punching into another call. That was like her - she had a hell of a drive. He adored that about Liz. She caught his eye and threw a smile his way, to which he almost returned.

He pushed off of the pew and tucked his hands in his pockets. He felt his underwear shift uncomfortably and he grimaced - he hated the heat in Texas. It was dry and relentless - not to mention the dust. He pursed his lips as he looked down at his black suit, which was now a strange brown-ish color. He patted himself off, coughing from the dust that was kicked up.

The silence that settled around him was disquieting. Every now and then, he heard faint gasps; a body hit the floor with a thud, but the harsh breathing continued. She was gulping down every breath she could, and he knew it was only so she could say something else to make him think twice.

Absently, he kicked a stray bullet casing away from him. He examined his black boots -which were scuffed beyond belief- and bent down, wiping the layer of shitty dust from them. He would have to polish them again; and if he was being totally honest, he didn't give a single, solitary fuck about his shoes.

He hadn't thought this through.

Her pained, desperate breaths were twisting his emotions. This was the woman he loved. But _goddamn_ , was she complicated.

While he still felt angry -enraged was a much more proper term- he was also wounded; his heart ached painfully every time he thought about it. The only words that popped up with the ache were betrayal and treason. Both emotions were powerful; did his pain outweigh the price that came with satisfaction, or would his anger ruin his vengeance? Was this something as pure as revenge, or was it muddled by his affections and his second-guessing?

But now that he was here - did he really want to be? Soul Eater never did anything he didn't want to do; but as he stood there and listened to the pathetic gasps of a mere shadow, he felt anger bubble up inside of his chest again. He took out his gun from his holster and stared down at it, a few whimpers of pain reaching his ears; he soon blocked it out, being drawn into his memories with her - of their life.

This gun was as much a part of him as she was. From the harsh, quick breaths she drew now to the shallow, broken moans he drew from her; every single person who had begged for their life at the other end of this barrel, to the one bullet that was specifically for her. It was all a part of him - a part he desperately needed to cast aside if he wanted to forget this pain.

His heavy footfalls drew closer to her, and her eyes darted around wildly. He could see every inch of agony on her skin; but it was still hard for him to get passed the white dress that draped over her bruised and swollen form. She was splayed out on the chapel floor, blood pooling around her and eight other bodies. Her breath quickened as he slowly came into view. He was blurred, but the eye that wasn't swollen shut took in every contour of his face; he was still perfect.

Her dress was spectacular; the neckline was formed by tiny pearls, which glittered every time she moved. It vaguely reminded him of the dress he had seen her in the first time they met. As he stared down at her now, though, he couldn't even find it in himself to smile at the memory. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and the other had a cut right on her brow. It bled profusely, specks of blood on the whites of her eye.

"Do you find me sadistic?"

Her eyes narrowed and she hissed through her teeth, a bit of blood dribbling down her temple. Soul stood over her for so long, she wondered if he was more scared of her than she was of him. He could see the absolute rage in her eye; he hadn't seen her this angry... Ever. Her life was on the line, and she was livid; she never liked being backed into a corner. Sweat was rolling across her skin, and before he knew it, he was kneeling down beside her and pulling out his handkerchief.

"You look like hell," Soul paused when she flinched away from the cotton, but continued on as he wiped blood, spit, and sweat from her chin. His knuckle dragged across her jaw, which was clenched so tightly he swore her teeth would break. "You feel like it, too." Her skin was on fire - she was burning up with rage, from the inside out.

He continued to wipe her face off, staring at the floor the whole time. Could he do this? He noticed that she glanced to her left - and while his face was completely neutral, his heart burst into flames in his chest. He was on the verge of shaking, he was so angry and devastated that he almost couldn't control himself. He finished wiping her cheek off and discarded his hanky, bringing one hand up to his face while the other grabbed his gun.

"I think you know me well enough to know that there's nothing... sadistic, in my actions." His eyes bored holes into the other corpses; he was cold and calculating, ignorant to her suffering. All of her friends were dead. Her future was gone. Her face contorted into a pure rage, though she stayed silent; she was seething, angry tears rolling down her face. He could feel the power of it wash over him. He gave in and smirked a little - he loved the intensity of her, even now.

"Well, maybe towards those losers... But, not you." Soul reached out and traced her jaw again, feeling her smooth skin. She was grinding her teeth still, struggling to not reach out and hit him. If only she could move. He searched her face for anything other than anger, but finding nothing, he stood and opened the barrel of his gun. There were five bullets in his pocket, and she finally understood how personal this was for him as he clicked the gun shut and pulled back the hammer.

It was a very different experience being on this side of the gun.

Soul was standing over her again, gun pointed at her head. Her eyes widened - in terror, in shock, in rage, he wasn't sure. She wished she could convey every emotion she felt with this look; never in a million years had she imagined things turning out like this. Fear gripped her heart and she realized that she wouldn't get out of this one.

Soul's expression was strangely pained; his eyes were a bit watery, but his body language was relaxed. He was looking at her with pity and regret in his eyes, and it only made the burning fire inside of her grow.

"If anything... This is me at my most... Masochistic."

She sucked in a breath between her teeth and she felt her body fill with a cold fury. She was shaking hard as she lifted her head a few inches from the ground, her eyes boring into his; she never wavered, and her voice was steady.

"Soul... It's your baby."

* * *

 _KILL SOUL_

 _Deadly Viper Assassination Squad_

 _1\. O-Ren Ishii - TSUBAKI NAKATSUKASA_

 _2\. Vernita Green - MEDUSA GORGON_

 _3\. Budd - BLACK*STAR_

 _4\. Elle Driver - BLAIR_

 _5\. Bill - SOUL_


	2. Chapter One: 2

**Chapter One: 2**

The tinkling of bells arranged to sound similar to an ice cream jingle played tunelessly somewhere beneath the roar of her bike. She rolled up to a curb in one of the more posh areas of town - the houses were big, and she even thought she saw a few celebrities hanging out down the street. Of course Medusa would live here, in the center of everything.

She turned off her Cock Rocket and approached the white house across the street. It was three stories, a tiny attic window perched among the shingles of an old, Victorian-style house. The lawn was immaculate, the walkway made of white marble.

The driveway, which was hand-laid brick, held a Bentley; there also seemed to be a bicycle closer to the garage door. Located near the end of the driveway was a bright green mailbox with a decorative sign that read, "The Marks" in cute lettering.

So Medusa went and got knocked up? The thought was bitter and filled her with memories of that day as she began to ascend the porch steps. It was a wrap-around porch dotted with light fixtures and wicker furniture. Medusa had done well for herself in the past few years. She reached out to press the doorbell, only to find it absent; instead, she gripped the small knocker and rapped a few times before patiently waiting.

"Oh, Sharon, I'm so glad you've come! I'm surprised you didn't come a bit earlier." The sound of her voice wrapped around her and she used the effect to her advantage; her rage was compressed into enhancing her senses. Medusa's footsteps grew closer and she prepared herself for whatever may happen now.

The door swung open and the smile on her face turned sour. She had never seen such a look on Medusa's face, and she reveled in it.

Medusa's mind shot back to four years ago - that little wedding chapel in Texas, and the coup de grace against the woman that stood before her. She remembered the way her bones cracked under her knuckles, and the storm that filled her eyes now was exactly the same as Medusa remembered.

She was the first to lash out in the stunned silence, her fist connecting neatly with the bridge of her nose. Medusa back peddled as the other woman followed her inside of the home, aiming a kick for her stomach. Medusa countered fluidly and wrapped an arm around her torso, throwing her painfully to the ground. She got up moments before Medusa threw a vase down where her head had just been.

She charged at the older woman, wrapping her arms around her and crashing them both into a china cabinet. After shaking off the impact, Medusa recovered and threw her to the ground; acting quickly, she grabbed the cabinet and pulled, making it topple over onto her former ally. She took this time to run to the washroom, and after fumbling with the brooms and mops, Medusa found her weapon of choice.

The other woman crawled from under the cabinet and ran to follow her. As she approached the kitchen, she stopped and threw her torso back on instinct; she watched as Medusa waved the head of her spear over her and she twisted to avoid the downward jab that was aimed for her head. She looked behind her and found a pot hanging on the wall and grabbed it, smacking away the spear.

"Who do you think you're fooling?" Medusa's jabs became fierce and fast, though it was noted that she wasn't nearly as powerful as she had once been. But the muscle memory never left her as the spear grazed her upper arm. She sucked in a breath and ignored the searing pain, managing to catch the spear in the pot and twist it out of Medusa's hands. Improvising quickly, Medusa reached a few feet away and grabbed a butcher's knife from the island.

She charged the other woman, who rolled over the dining room table. Medusa was beginning to get angry - she needed to end this quickly, quietly, and before anyone came home. Her opponent flipped the table and retreated back to the living room, where Medusa met her.

They were both holding knives, coiled and waiting for the other to strike. It was almost completely silent now, the ice cream truck having departed during their encounter. As their feet shifted uneasily on the floor, glass continued to break under their feet. Medusa tried to intimidate her opponent, only for her to stand steady. They backed further into the room, each occasionally striking out at the other. Their focus was completely devoted to one another, until they heard the rumble of a school bus approaching.

Medusa's face went pale, and her opponent's earlier thoughts were confirmed. How would she handle this? She could kill Medusa right now, then kill her child. But did she really want to do something so cruel as to rob an innocent child of life? That would make her no better than the people she was hunting.

The bus' door opened and a small child emerged from its depths. She watched as they slowly approached the house, hesitant to even open the door. But open it did, and she followed Medusa's lead.

Their knives went behind their backs as they faced the child, and Medusa smiled pleasantly at them.

"Mom, I'm... home."

"Hello, honey. How was school?"

The child took a hard look at their mother now, and the state of the room. The woman could see it in their eyes - the gears were turning, and she was sure they had figured out what was going on.

"Mom... What happened in here?"

Medusa's smile faltered for only a moment, but it was long enough for the other woman to notice it. It quickly came back as a soft laugh that bubbled from her chest.

"Oh, mommy's friend lost hold of the china cabinet while we were moving some furniture around!"

She shot Medusa a dirty look, the insinuation not getting passed her. The child thought about Medusa's response and took a step forward, once again quite hesitant.

"Such a big mess, though..." Medusa quickly moved to stop them, drawing their attention. She put on that smile again and her voice was evened out.

"Now, Crona, what have I told you about broken glass?" Crona's attention was now drawn to their mother's silent 'friend', whom they had never laid eyes on before. They ignored Medusa, who grew frustrated until she realized what had captivated their interest. She motioned to the woman and introduced them.

"This is one of my very close, very old friends."

"I'm -. How old are you, Crona?" She offered a faint smile to them, but they didn't return the gesture. They regarded her with something akin to caution, but it bordered on paranoia. A quick glance at Medusa confirmed that they were allowed to answer - but when their eyes rested on her again, they were filled with fear.

"Crona. You have been asked a question." Medusa's voice was more than firm - it was cold, it was careless. Her child reacted to the voice quickly and uttered out a number - four. She hummed in affirmation, clicking her tongue.

"Four years old, hm? You know, I had a little girl once. She'd be about four now." Her voice wavered and she looked away from the child, at the floor. She slowly turned her head towards Medusa, who paid her sudden discomfort no mind. It was quiet between them for what seemed to be too long, before Medusa approached her child and knelt in front of them. Her fake smile was still there.

"Crona, go to your room. I need to catch up with -. I'll let you know when you can come out." Crona's gaze slowly drifted towards the other woman, and Medusa knew they weren't listening. She snapped her fingers and their attention was on her instantly again.

"Your room. Now." Without another word, Crona climbed the stairs and they heard the door close after a few minutes. Unsure of how to proceed, the woman warily eyed her opponent before they both relented.

"You want some coffee?" After a few moments, she nodded her head in silent agreement and followed her enemy into the kitchen. She sheathed her knife and closed the door as she made her way through the destroyed home. She went over the information she had dug up on Medusa in her head.

 _'This upscale home in the center of northern Hollywood was the residence of scientist Laura Marks. Her husband is Howard Marks, a journalist. But, back when we were aquainted, four years ago, her name was Medusa Gorgon. Her code name was Snake Charmer. Mine, Scythemeister.'_

"Do you have a towel?" She asked flatly. Medusa shot her an empty look before tossing over a clean rag. She wiped the blood away from her neck and wrapped it tightly around her cut arm. Medusa watched her for a moment or two before turning back to the coffee, passing her a cup with cream and sugar already added.

Strange, how it had been so long and they still remembered these details about each other. She may not have been particularly close to Medusa, but they had worked enough jobs together to establish a basic respect.

"So, I suppose it's a little late for an apology."

"You suppose correctly," She bit back cooly, tightening the rag around the wound with a slight hiss. Medusa turned her attention back to her and approached her quickly, a nasty gleam in her eyes.

"Let's get something straight - you can try and kill me if you'd like, but keep it away from my family."

"You can relax for now, Medusa. I don't intend to murder you in front of your child." She gave Medusa a frigid look, a bit of sarcasm behind her words. She stepped away from the counter and smoothed out her shirt before going back to her cup of coffee.

"That's more rational that Soul led me to believe you were capable of." His name brought forth no great spark of rage, no cold storm inside of her. She felt nothing at his mention.

"It's mercy, compassion, and forgiveness I lack. Not rationality." The words floated in the silence for a long while, and Medusa knew they were true. She had done something incredibly wicked all those years ago - and she would never be able to outrun it, or hide from it. Not even in this new life she had built for herself could she escape what she had once been. That was proven by the presence of the woman she had thought dead this whole time.

She clicked her nails against the counter a few times, impatient; she didn't know what to say, and the silence was so telling. Her former acquaintance was sitting only a few feet away, sipping coffee - her presence was similar to a Grim Reaper. Sometime soon, she was going to die by her hands. It was either kill, or be killed.

"I know I fucked you over," Her voice took on a softer tone grabbing her attention. Medusa was _begging,_ and she wasn't even off to a great start.

"I fucked you over bad; I wish to god I hadn't, but I did. You have every right to want to get even." Her sentence was barely complete when the other woman jumped all over it.

"No. No, no, no. To get even -even Stephen- I would have to kill you-" She leaned against the counter, a cold anger filling her as she continued,"Go up to Crona's room, kill them. Then wait for your husband, the wandering journalist, to come home, and kill him; that would make us even. That would make us about square." She drew out a little square in the air and gave Medusa a cocky look; one that said there was no way to get out of this other than for her to die.

"All I can tell you is that I'm a different person now."

"Oh, great! _I don't care._ " She was getting tired of Medusa trying to weasle her way out of her come-uppance. No deeds done would change the outcome of this story. Medusa recoiled at the straight answer and walked towards a cork board by the washroom. She ripped off a picture of Crona and shoved it in her face.

"I know I don't deserve your mercy, or your forgiveness. However, I beseech you for both of behalf of my child-"

"Bitch, you can stop right there." She ground out with such a rawness that it stopped Medusa in her tracks. Her gaze was intense and filled with hate that she had never known. She really did fuck up.

"Just because I have no wish to murder you before the eyes of your child does not mean that parading them around in front of me is gonna inspire sympathy. You and I have unfinished business; and not a goddamn fucking thing you've done in the subsequent four years, _including_ getting knocked up, is gonna change that." There were no questions left to ask now. Medusa had her final answer - the only thing that she would be given was death, at her own discretion.

"So, when do we do this?" Her voice had taken on a sterile, business-like quality that told her that Medusa would no longer try the beg approach.

"It all depends. When _do_ you wanna die? Tomorrow? The day after tomorrow?"

"How about tonight?"

"Splendid. Where?" She took another sip of her coffee as Medusa seemed to mull it over.

"There's a soccer field not far from here, where Crona has their practices. We meet there around 2:30 in the morning, dressed in all black; we can kill each other with some measure of civility. Now," her eyes had taken on a mischevious glint that did not go unnoticed. She brought a finger up to excuse herself, and it made the other woman flinch out of uncertainty. A grin spread across her face as she recognized her discomfort. "I have to fix Crona's cereal."

She retreated to the other side of the kitchen, grabbing a bowl from a cabinet above her. She stared at Medusa's back as she pulled out a spoon and poured milk into the empty bowl.

"Soul always said you were handy with an edged weapon."

"Stop trying to impress me with useless facts that I already know, _Scythemeister_." Medusa hissed out the nickname with a measure of venom only found in species of reptiles.

"Weapon of choice? If you wanna stick with that butcher knife, that's fine with me." Her eyes were roving Medusa's body waiting for anything to happen. It couldn't be this easy, it never was; and Medusa's tone sounded like her small-talk was working.

"Ha-Ha. Very funny, bitch. Very funny!" She whipped around and, with a concealed gun, shot at her. It barely missed, but the suddeness of the attack gave her time to retaliate. She dropped her mug and kicked it towards Medusa; it missed, though it distracted her long enough for her to pull out her knife and throw it hard.

It buried itself deep in Medusa's heart; their eyes never left each other's as she slid down the cabinets before she couldn't hold herself up. Her body crumpled to the floor with a thud, and she stared at the other woman until her eyes went glassy as one final breath left Medusa's body.

She waited for a few minutes before getting closer to pull out her knife, and when she did, she stared at her for a long while. She would never forget what she did while walking the path of revenge - the images would be burned into her mind forever. But this brought her one step closer.

Coming from her reverie, she realized someone was watching her. She turned quickly to find Crona's wide eyes staring down at their mother before slowly coming to meet her own. She grabbed a towel, turned around and began cleaning off her knife, trying to compose herself in front of the kid.

"I didn't mean for you to see this. For that, I apologize. But you can take my word for it," she tossed a meaningful look over her shoulder, one that Crona wouldn't understand for years to come, "Your mother had it coming." She threw the towel onto the counter and re-sheathed her knife. With one last look at Medusa she turned to fully face Crona. Their eyes were blank, but she knew the anger that would fill them one day - the need for revenge.

"When you grow up... If you still feel raw about it; I'll be waiting." She gazed into their eyes before making her way out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

 _'For those regarded as warriors, when engaged in combat, vanquishing of thine enemy can be the warrior's only concern.'_

She walked over the marble stones and the cement sidewalk, crossed the street, and swung her leg over the Cock Rocket before retrieving a notebook from the side car. She flipped through the pages and landed on a list of names, one crossed out in black ink.

 _'Supress all human emotion and compassion... Kill whoever stands in thy way, even if that be Lord God, or Buddha himself.'_

She looked back at the house before fishing out a black marker from her bag. She crossed out the second name on the list; Medusa Gorgon. She stared down at it in satisfaction before securing the notebook and pen in the bag. She started up the motorcycle and drove away, heading towards her next destination.

 _'This truth lies at the heart of the art of combat.'_


	3. Chapter 2: the blood-splattered BRIDE

**chapter two: the blood-splattered BRIDE**

 _four years, six months earlier_

There were no words. Harvar had been a cop for six years, fresh out of high school. He had seen a lot in that time - gang violence, corruption, and organized crime. But this was a bloodbath of epic proportions.

Nine people -technically, ten- were dead and strewn about the chapel like a grotesque Renaissance painting. None had been spared, not even the man that played the piano. He was on the ground just behind his bench, a pool of blood a foot in diameter beneath him. Gold bullet casings littered the ground, making it hard for the crime photographers to find them all for their pictures. It was hot and sticky out; the doors were open, and someone had brought a fan, but it didn't help much.

He inspected the bodies that were in clusters, starting with the preacher and his mother. The other five were under investigation - they had family that had to be notified, arrangements that were to be made. But the bride was the one that had thrown them the most; her name was fake, her prints were burned off, and they had yet to find a match to her DNA in the system.

Someone had thrown on the local Rockabilly station, much to his chagrin; he hated this kind of music, so he stepped outside. He was waiting for his boss to show up - then they would be able to conduct a more thorough investigation. He heard heavy metal coming from an approaching undercover car before muting itself quickly. His partner and boss, Ox Ford, stepped out and fixed his suit coat. Ox was privy to his way of thinking; though a bit more brash and his ability to recall simple facts was beyond exhausting, Ox offered an insight that was widely respected and typically was very informative.

"So, what's it like in there?" Ox nodded towards the open doors, the smell of sour blood spilling out into the Texas heat. He blanched, not ready to view the scene quite yet. Harvar's expression changed to a deep frown, and that told Ox more than enough.

"Nine dead bodies. We're talking the works; bride, groom. Reverend. Reverend's mother. They even shot the organ player." Ox began to slowly ascend the steps, his eyes on the ground in front of him.

"It would appear as though someone objected this union... And couldn't hold their peace," Harvar smacked his arm, telling him the joke was in bad taste, but he agreed nonetheless; this was something personal. But it was done so cleanly that it appeared as the work of professionals. Ox took in the room and he let out a low whistle, fixing his jacket while doing so.

They began to walk the length of the floor, trying to avoid the numerous shells that littered the ground and some of the pews. "It's like a goddamn Nicaraguan death squad," Harvar swore under his breath. It was Ox's turn to hit him, before removing and cleaning his glasses.

"This is a house of God, Harvar. You better watch that blasphemy here." He nodded in acknowledgement and Ox put his glasses back on. They stood only a few feet away from a body clad in white. He took a moment to look at each body from where he stood and absently tucked his hand in his pocket.

"This is definitely the work of professionals. Death Squad's the right track - four, maybe five of 'em... This isn't the work of an amateur."

"This is the work of a salty dog." Ox took a moment to think about what his partner was saying - and it made sense. This was a wedding, after all. Only one kind of person would destroy such a precious day, and that would be someone who had been slighted. This was personal.

Ox slowly approached the bride, Harvar following. "You can tell by how clean this is, that someone meticulously planned this out with a group of people. If you were a moron, you could almost admire it." He looked down at her and his eyes roved her face. If he took away the bruises, cuts, and blood, she was a gorgeous woman. Her hair was ashy blonde and long, and her body suggested curves - but the worst part was her swelled stomach. She had been pregnant. He snapped his fingers for Harvar to fill in her name.

"Name on the marriage certificate is Arlene Machiavelli - a fake, obviously. We've just been calling her The Bride. On account of the dress."

"You'd have to be nuts to shoot a goddamn good-lookin woman like that in the head. Look at her," he leaned over her and continued to admire her superficial beauty, "Ashy, soft hair. Big, doe eyes. She's like a blood-splattered angel."

She recoiled, almost imperceptive, and hawked one right in his open mouth. Ox flew back in disgust, running outside to induce vomitting. Harvar ran out after him, trying to ask him what had happened. After he finished retching and had wiped his mouth, Ox donned a look that his partner had never seen. His face was twisted with disgust and embarassment as he spat his next words.

"That tall drink of cocksucker isn't dead."

* * *

-i guess this is the six months later part-

She approached the building and shook her umbrella of excess water, almost skipping inside. She was overjoyed right now, but she had to play it cool. She looked around as she entered the hospital doors briskly, her one eye taking in the security cameras and the orderlies, the doctors and patients. She had been told the room she was to look for was on the way to the critical care unit - it was an observation room with a window outside of it, just after a set of large security doors.

She navigated the halls expertly, and once she found the right one, she ducked into a supply closet. This is where her fun began.

She slipped off her long purple cloak, revealing her skimpy black dress. She giggled happily as she slipped out of that as well, reaching into her bag and pulling out a similarly skimpy nurse's outfit. It was like a second skin, and her breasts barely fit in it. She buttoned it up as best she could, before smoothing it out and placing a small hat atop her head. She stepped out of her black boots and replaced them with a pair of shiny red pumps. Reaching back into the bag, she pulled out an unidentified vial of reddish liquid.

She grabbed a silver tray and a blue hospital parchment and set them down, and after a bit of searching, she found sterile needles. She helped herself to one and uncapped it, watching as she drained the liquid into the needle's chamber slowly. She pushed on the pump and waited for a bit of the fluid to come out, confirming the elimination of air in the syringe. She laid it and the vial carefully on the tray and shoved her clothes in the bag before hiding it. Smoothing down her dress one more time before grabbing the tray, she left the closet and began to make her way down the hall, her heels clicking loudly in the area between CCU and ICU.

She hooked a left and peered in through the window, a smug look on her face.

 **BLAIR**

 **member**  
 **DEADLY VIPER ASSASSINATION SQUAD**

 **codename:**  
 **FELINE FATALE**

She entered the room and closed the door quietly behind her. As she turned to face her greatest adversary, she was overcome with a feeling of absolute victory. She set her tray down and a grin broke out across her face as she looked down upon one of the greatest warriors she had ever met - but one of the people she hated most passionately. She reached out and waved a finger under her prey's nose to test for breath. Once she affirmated that she was, indeed, comatose, she allowed herself to feel victory more wholly.

"I might never have liked you. Point in fact, I despise you! But that doesn't mean I don't respect you, kitten." She had expected the silence, and the only response she got was a deep breath. She reached over and grabbed the syringe and uncapped it, delicately setting the cap back on the tray.

"Dying in our sleep is a luxury that our kind is rarely afforded - my gift to you~" Her tone was still jovial, even as she pushed the needle into the extra dock on her network of tubes. Just as she pushed on the plunger, her phone rang and her irritation came out. She removed the syringe and angrily put it back onto her tray. "For fuck's sake," she mumbled while trying to get her phone from her ridiculously tight outfit. She flipped it open and smiled a little, her happy tone back.

"Hello, Soul."

"What's her condition?" Blair licked her lips and looked at her heart monitor, then back down at the syringe.

"Comatose."

"Where is she?" He asked a little too quickly, to her ire. He was fiddling nervously with his sword handle, anxious to hear news about the woman he had loved, killed, and let go of all at the same time.

"I'm standing over her right now."

"That's my girl." He knew she was pissed at him for asking so much about -, but he heard her flirty giggle on the other end and knew he had been forgiven. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

"Blair, you're going to abort the mission." The way she screamed 'what' on the other end made him think, for a split second, that an 89-year old, pack-a-day smoker had grabbed it and screamed for her. He tried to console her, telling her to relax.

"We owe her better than that."

" _You don't owe her shit_." It wasn't a growl, it wasn't a scream. It was between a hiss and a snarl, and he actually had to pull the phone away from his ear. He winced in pain at her volume.

"Would you keep it down?"

"You. Don't. Owe. Her. Shit." She whispered with enough force and venom to make them both think she popped a blood vessel in her eye. She was beyond pissed. She was filled with seething rage. She could flip that scrawny bitch out of her bed and kill her. How could he take this away from her? He was the one that told her to come do this, and now it was suddenly, 'we owe her'?

"May I say one thing?" He asked, almost meekly. Blair hoped he was scared right now.

"Speak." She said shortly, and he took this opportunity to try and rectify the situation.

"You beat the shit out of her. But you didn't kill her. I put a bullet in her fuckin dome, and her heart just kept on beating. And you saw it with your own beautiful gold eye, did you not? We've done a lot of bad to her, and if she ever wakes up, we'll do a helluva lot more... But one thing we won't do is sneak into her room, at night, like a filthy rat and kill her in her sleep. And we will not do this because that, Blair, would lower us. Don't you concur?"

It took a long time before he heard any movement on the other line. He heard the sound of clothes shifting before a long, suffering sigh.

"I guess."

"Do you really have to guess?"

"Smartass... No, I know."

"Come home, babe." She smiled and affirmed his order, though she was still rather upset at her sudden withdrawal from something she had been looking very forward to. She sniffled a bit to get her point across and she could almost hear the smile in his sigh.

"We cool?" She laughed this time and nodded, though he couldn't see it - the laugh had been enough. They bid each other goodbye and she hung up, wiping the tear that threatened to fall. She turned around and faced the woman again and her visage twisted into something lothesome, her anger returned.

"Thought that was pretty fucking funny, didn't you? Word of advice, fuckface, don't you ever wake up."

* * *

-four years later-

This side of the hospital was cold and quiet; it was where they housed most of their coma patients, and as such, nurses could hear each other walking when they're five or six rooms down. The EKG and the occassional deep breath were the only other sounds occupying the room The Bride had occupied for the better part of four years.

She lay motionless, time standing still for her as she continues to heal her wounds and plot her vengeance.

A mosquito invades her section of the room and lands on her forearm, sticking her with its jaw and beginning to suck her blood. Her eyes flew open as she wrenched herself from the comfort of the bed. She was breathing heavy, heart pounding as she gasped for breath she couldn't seem to find. Her world stopped as her last memory came back to her, and her hand shot to her head -

 _"This is me at my most... Masochistic."_

 _She sucked in a breath between her teeth and she felt her body fill with a cold fury. She was shaking hard as she lifted her head a few inches from the ground, her eyes boring into his; she never wavered, and her voice was steady._

 _"Soul... It's your baby."_

 _He pulled the trigger before she even finished her sentence, the casing turning into place and the gunpowder activated; the bullet was fired with man-made speed as it came screaming from his gun, and it was coming straight for her-_

Her hand went to the spot due to reflex, but was startled to find a metal plate in the area of skull it had entered. She almost couldn't even believe she was alive in the first place. How long had it been? Where was she - still in Texas, or had he dumped her elsewhere? What about-

Her hands immediately went to her stomach, only to find the large round mass to be gone. A coldness spread through her and her mouth curled in a disgusting frown; her nose scrunched up as she tried to keep from crying.

Her hands roved the area and slowly pulled up the hospital gown. A large scar was on her stomach, revealing a C-section. Her baby had died that day, and it was all his fault. She pressed her hand hard against the smooth scar tissue while the other one balled up in the gown.

She couldn't hold back the scream that tore itself from her chest, nor the wails that followed. She wept hard for the future she tried so hard to seize for her baby - only for it to be snatched up by the very person she was running from. Her life was effectively over - her friends, her family. They were all dead, and her baby, _oh god_ , her baby.

Her hands rubbed her stomach as she continued to weep, fragments of her memory continuing to connect. She needed to grieve, but she also needed to start planning. Tears streamed her face and blurred her vision, but still she lifted her hands to her face as she read her palms.

"Four years?" She whispered desperately. She clenched her fists and her attention was then drawn to the slamming of a door. Someone was coming. She tried to slow her breathing and she quickly wiped her face before slamming back down on the bed; her heart finally slowed as the door opened. She felt her bed being moved but continued to feign sleep. There was no speech between either person who had entered, nor had she heard much in the way of nurses on their way through the hospital.

It took a while, and an elevator ride, but they finally stopped rolling her bed around. She could hear the sound of a match, and then she smelled cigarette smoke. She struggled to hide a grimace in displeasure. He pulled the blankets from her body and took another drag from his cigarette.

"Price is $10 per stitch, and $50 if you want to take anything out. You can't do any work on her head, vagina, or her breasts. It all stays in the lower abdomen. Do you understand?" The first voice sounded mildly interested - in the way of someone studying their favorite subject. The second man must have nodded, because the first one left.

"Hopefully now they'll let me operate." The man mumbled as he pulled her hospital gown up. He had a scalpel in his hand and was going to cut just below her navel when her hand shot out and, in his surprise, he was unable to fight her when she forced the scalpel around and through his eye. He had no time to scream, but he flopped uselessly on the floor for a minute before he finally stilled. She sat up in her bed and looked around nervously.

He took her to the fucking morgue.

There were a few bodies on either side of her, and it was absolutely freezing down here. She was pretty much naked, as well. The man she had killed happened to be wearing scrubs, so she sat on the edge of the bed and went to stand -

Only for her to crumple to the floor in a heap. Confused, she turned her attention to her legs, trying to make them move. Realization dawned on her that she hadn't been up and about in four years. Her legs were completely numb. She sighed and quickly stripped him down before slipping into his clothes.

By the time she had finished dressing herself, she heard someone approaching. Thinking quickly, she pulled the scalpel from the man's head and drug herself to the door. She waited for the man to close it before she swung at his Achilles tendon, only for him to lift the leg to bring it down on her in an axe-kick.

She moved at the last minute and drove the scalpel into his calf, which took him off-guard and off-balance. He fell backwards and she slashed his other heel - he had cracked his head on the ground as well. He tried to shake the dizzyness as she drug him towards the heavy door, but could do nothing as she screamed in his face, "Where's Soul!" before slamming the door on his head. He grunted in pain, but she only repeated this and slammed his head once again.

"I don't know who Soul is!"

"Bullshit!" She shrieked, hitting his head one more time. He was dazed and bleeding, and she finally read his name tag. Franken Stein. A memory washed over her suddenly, one from while she was in a coma -

 _"Well, aren't you just a darling little thing." He purred, leaning over her torso while she slept soundly. If he hovered over her face, she would spit; and he didn't want that. He lifted up her hospital gown and pressed his scalpel to her skin, a delighted giggle escaping him when he drew blood._

 _"I'm Dr. Stein. I'll be taking care of you tonight."_

She contorted her frown into a gross smile, spelling out doom for Stein.

"You're my Doctor, right? And you're gonna take care of me, _right_?" She hissed. His eyes grew wide and he tried to utter anything consoling, but she slammed the door once more and it cracked his skull in such a way that a fragment shot through his brain. He convulsed for a few minutes and she fell back against him, exhausted from so much movement. She heaved a few breaths before reaching into his pockets, looking for cash or keys.

She didn't expect to pull out a small, dick-shaped key-chain with a bright orange key attached to it. She made a face of mild disgust before rolling her eyes and rolling his body and the other's behind the door. She procured a wheelchair and after hefting herself up into it, she made her way to an elevator.

It was apparently two in the morning, and as such, no one was privvy to her prison escape. She wheeled herself through the parking garage, trying to figure out how she'd find a match to this key. Almost every license plate was of Texas, which answered her prior question. Now she could begin formulating an actual plan. She rolled down what seemed to be another dead-end, when she spotted it.

It was bright orange and in bold, glittering gold letters, "COCK ROCKET" marked one of the most unique things she had ever seen. It was a sizeable bike, and it had a side car emblazoned with flames. She pulled the key from her pocket and groaned aloud. This would be her set of wheels. But she couldn't do anything in her condition. At least, not yet. She got up right beside the side car and with a careful precision, she transitioned from seat to seat on pure upper-body strength. She got comfortable and then she stared at her starting point.

"Wiggle your big toe."

She waited patiently for a response - subconscious or conscious, anything. But nothing happened. She repeated herself. Minutes passed, and she folded her hands in her lap. This was going to be long - but she had time. She wasn't worried.

 _'As I lay in the side car of Stein's motorcycle, trying to will my limbs out of entropy, I could see the faces of the cunts who did this to me, and the dicks responsible.'_

She felt her face get hot as she remembered her old associates. She repeated herself and again waited. It was completely silent in the concrete garage; she wasn't particularly worried about anyone spotting her, either. There was a tarp draped neatly across the bike. She simply put it over herself; not to mention, he parked in the far corner of one of the last rows.

 _'Members all of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad. When fortunes smiles on something as violent -and ugly- as revenge, it seems proof like no other that not only does God exist, but we're doing His will.'_

She could see them all standing over her now. The satisfaction in Blair's eyes, and the resignation in Black*Star's. But the face that stood out the most to her was the cold, distressed face of someone she considered a close friend.

 _'At a time when I knew the least about my enemies, the first name on my death list, Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, was the easiest to find. But of course, when one manages the difficult task of becoming queen of the Tokyo underworld, one doesn't keep it a secret; does one?'_

 **TSUBAKI NAKATSUKASA**

 **member**  
 **DEADLY VIPER ASSASSINATION SQUAD**

 **codename**  
 **DARK ARM**


	4. Chapter 3: the ORIGIN of TSUBAKI

**chapter 3: the ORIGIN of TSUBAKI**

 _'Tsubaki Nakatsukasa was born on her clan's massive estate in rural Japan. While it was typical for her family to pass down their techniques to the firstborn child, Tsubaki far surprassed her brother and as such, was awarded with the invaluable skills that a master thief or assassin would need. Masamune, her brother, grew to resent his position, and struck a bargain with a rival assassin clan; the Star clan._

 _The heir to the Nakatsukasa style made her first acquaintance with death at the age of 9. It was at that age she witnessed the death of her parents at the hands of Japan's most ruthless assassins - the Star clan.'_

Tsubaki hid in the closet like her father had told her to. She could see through the crack in the door; she watched as two young men approached her father. Her mother was being held by a man with white hair, who seemed to be their leader. She had her hands fixed over her mouth, to keep from making any accidental noises.

The first boy, his hair black and his eyes red, charged at her father. He fluidly dodged the attack and brought a stiff hand down on his back. The boy cried out before scurrying away and pulling out a blade. Her father's eyes narrowed as the boy jabbed the tip of the blade at him - he had absolutely no structure to his form.

His blade grazed her father's cheek, and the boy seemed rather surprised. He looked to the man in white for approval - and this was his mistake. Her father took hold of the blade and yanked it from the kid's hands. He held the handle firmly before lifting the sword and bringing it down on him; it cut through the meat of his shoulder, easily cutting the flesh and muscles. With added force, he cracked the boy's collar bone and he screamed.

"Red Star!" The other boy cried out; rage filled his face as he descended upon her father. His moves were precise and caused pain - but he was still very young, and could barely keep up with her father's expertise. She thought that things might turn out in their favor -

Red Star had fallen to the ground, dead; the other boy pushed her father back and he tripped over the body. He took his chance and snatched the sword, driving it through his neck and severing his head. It landed at the foot of the closet, and she stared down in horror as his blood began to stain the carpet beneath her feet. Tsubaki desperately tried not to cry, but the tears were flowing and mixing with the red liquid; she only hoped they would spare her mother. She turned her reluctant eyes back to the open crack in the closet, only to be met with wide green eyes. She almost screamed, but the boy who had just killed her father simply bent down and picked up his head before heading back towards his leader.

"Good job, Black*Star." A hand rested atop the boy's head, and she burned his name into her memory. She would kill Black*Star for this one day.

"What are we gonna do with her?" Black*Star nodded towards Tsubaki's mother, who was composing herself - aside from the tears streaming her face, she hadn't made a single noise the entire time. The man in white looked her up and down before grabbing her by her hair. He drug her through her husband's blood before tossing her at the closet doors. Tsubaki pressed her back against the wall, unwilling to take her eyes off of the situation. She couldn't believe what was happening.

She was praying that they would let her mother live. If the boy didn't mention her hiding spot, surely they were merciful enough to spare a woman who had little to do with the clan affairs. But she underestimated their cruelty. Two swords pierced the door at the same time, falling just to Tsubaki's left, and the stain on the floor slowly began to expand. Her eyes grew wide and her hands fell to her sides.

"Momma?" She whispered incredulously. Blood was running down the sleek steel, dripping onto her exposed skin and staining her nightgown. The blades jiggled a bit before they were removed and blood spilled through the cracks in the door, confirming her worst fears. Everything in her turned wintry - even the vile rage that was taking root in her soul. She would never forgive the man in white, or Black*Star. She would hunt them down.

All of these thoughts swirled in her head and when she came from her reverie, she began to notice an acrid smell; like something burning.

Her home. Her home would be gone now, too. She waited a few moments longer before forcing herself to move. She opened the closet doors and her mother's corpse fell into the space she had been occupying not even a moment before. He had stabbed her through the mouth and through the stomach. Tsubaki knelt beside her and wailed loudly, feeling her grief consume her. Her hands were shaking hard as she desperately wanted to try and stop the blood from flowing - but it was already too late. The flames grew and she closed her eyes hard and ran out of the room without sparing another glance at her parent's bodies.

She managed to stumble through the halls as they caught fire behind her, and she soon stood at the entrence of her compound. She watched the great blaze grow, eyes swirling with hatred.

 _'She swore revenge._

 _While the Star clan continued to evade her wrath, her brother Masamune was easy to find - and was a wealth of information regarding her next victim.'_

The door slowly opened and a long, elegant blade pierced the air where her flesh had once been. Tsubaki threw her body into the door and pushed the other swordsman back as she threw her kusarigama into the swirling darkness. It didn't connect, and so she proceeded into the darkened home, closing the door behind her and locking it.

He wasn't going to get away from her now.

Visibility was low, though the streetlights cast shadows that played tricks on both of their minds. Masamune was waiting for her at the top of the stairs, though the shadows played to his favor and concealed him from her vengeful gaze. His sister continued to cautiously step forward, trying to gain her bearings in such a strange place.

"Do you know why I'm here, big brother?" He wouldn't rise to her bait, and he was keeping his breaths quiet. **Assassin's rule number one: silence. Dissolve in the darkness and erase your breath. Wait for an opening to attack your target.**

She weaved into the kitchen, trying to stay hidden - he could see her as she slowly approached, her head turning to each side as she hesitantly took another step.

"I'm here because you're going to tell me where I can find the Star clan." She was close enough to the bottom of the stairs. He let out a chuckle and watched as fear filled her face, realizing his position too late as he lept down the stairs, his sword poised to strike her shoulder-

 **Assassin's rule number two: transpositional thinking. Analyze the target in order to predict his thoughts and movements.**

But instead was met with an illusion that burst into smoke. She had been able to see him the entire time, and had just been mapping out the house while she thought of her plan. He decided to try and use her own tactic against her.

"The Star clan was destroyed a year ago. Someone very high up wasn't pleased with them." He didn't hear her footsteps, but he could feel her anger suffocating him, along with the smoke. He was poised for an attack, but unbeknownst to him, she was now where he had originally been waiting for her; on the top of the stairs, watching the billowing smoke consume her brother's form. She could barely make his figure out in the darkness, but she kept a close eye on him as she stayed silent.

"Though, I did hear that one of them was left alive... One of the kids." Her nose crinkled in disgust and anger; had someone else taken her vengeance? Was she doomed to wander in an aimless existence, devoid of any family?

"I heard it was someone named Black*Star." He heard her furious exhale, and he lunged, taking three steps at a time and by the time she noticed him, his sword was already headed for her torso. **Assassin's rule number three: speed. Take out the target before he notices your presence.**

His sword was stopped by the meat of her arm as she stuck her ninja sword through his ribs, piercing his heart as she glared up at him defiantly. "Make sure you tell White Star that I'll come for him one day, too." His eyes grew wide as he stared into hers, frozen as death overtook him; he slumped against her and dropped his katana - a keepsake of their family. She pulled it from her arm, unconcerned about the wound as she let his body fall to the floor. Tsubaki had work to do.

* * *

"Hello, is this your first time staying with our hotel?"

"Hm? Uh, no. Here, that should cover it." He regarded her absently while handing over two-hundred cash. She looked at it in amazement before looking back at him, her words coming out in stutters.

"We don't have a room that costs that much, sir! Our most expensive room is the presidential, and that's only $125 for the night..." He pushed the money back to her and winked.

"The extra's for you, since I'm such a big guy. Also, if anyone asks for me, I'm not in." His smile was dangerous, and she didn't want to question him anymore. It might tip him off. She gave him a fake smile and accepted the cash before handing him the room key. He nodded at her before heading off, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Her heart was pounding. Her grip on the desk loosened and she felt the painful creak of her knuckles. She was so close, she could have killed him right then and there. But she had planned so carefully - it had been 6 years, but she had refined her trade and tracked him down to this shitty motel. She had been working here, waiting for him to drift through, for two months.

Her entire life was spent working up to this moment.

Her shift ended at 10 that night, and she knew the hit he was working wasn't going to arrive until tomorrow. He had already scouted the area his target would be staying, and he had no need to leave for the night. She would be able to take her time with him. To remind him what it's like to take someone's life.

The hours flew by for her as she continued to plan. She had stolen the copy of his keycard and it was slipped neatly in her stocking. As soon as the clock struck 10, she was out of her seat. The "No Staff Available" sign was put up and she hurried down the hallway to the employee room. Jennifer was there and greeted her solemnly as she typically did, and Tsubaki was clocked out and going up the stairs before 10:03.

He was on the third floor, at the end of the first hall. Her heart was pounding away in her chest and her stomach was in knots. She had never been so nervous before - she was a professional, and she was very good at what she did. But her palms were sweating, and she almost felt nauseated. But still, she knocked on the door lightly as she held a ninja sword behind her back. There was no answer, and she pulled up her skirt and pulled out the card. She slid it into the lock and it clicked open. Tsubaki slithered through the dark room, noticing the sound of running water and feeling the steam. He was showering. This was her best chance.

She stood beside the door, waiting for him to come out. After thirty minutes, she had waited long enough. Turning the door handle slowly, she was surprised to find it unlocked. She stepped into the bathroom and looked around carefully. The water was still running, and he was standing under the stream. His Star clan tattoo caught her attention - as well as the scar her father gave him. He was covered in other scars and burns, but he turned off the water and froze when he finally saw her.

Tsubaki straightened herself out and reached behind her to close the door to the other room. Doing this exposed her weapon, which he fixed his eyes on.

"I guess I don't need to ask if you're here for an autograph, right? Okay, alright, I'll fight you. Let me get some clothes on-"

"No! You think I'm going to give you some dignified death? No, Black*Star. I'm going to butcher you like swine." His nostrils flared and he struck a pose - exposing his naked form further. She ignored his antics, her eyes boring holes in his. Her hatred was all-encompassing.

"I gave your father a dignified death - and I'm a much bigger guy than he was! Can't a guy put on some pants?" She sucked in a breath and charged at him, swiping at him and jabbing; her fist connected with his solid bicep and he grabbed the blade of her sword in his hands. She tried to get away from him but he grabbed her arm. She headbutted him, but it only drew a bit of blood.

"You don't know anything about my family - and you killed them all." Her voice was dangerous, and the glare she was giving him spoke volumes. It reminded him of the quiet, scared little girl he had worked so hard to save all those years ago. He let her go and she pushed him away, a crazed look on her face.

"I'm going to end you here and now."

"Is this really the way you wanna do it? Or are you doing it like this because it's convenient? You got a lot of potential, but if you're gonna waste it by chasing after me, then I might as well kill you here. So, Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, what'll it be? Will you lay down and die, or are you gonna fight me for it?" She slipped into her family stance and he had his answer. A smirk crossed his face as he also fell into a stance - it was similar to Hun Gar, but she couldn't quite place it. Something bled into his eyes, a bloodlust that she had only remembered being in White Star's eyes.

He attacked her viciously and he didn't let up. Each blow was fatal, his limbs moving with almost a will and power of their own. She managed to dodge and parry, but was doing little other than defending. She couldn't find a gap in his style, could find no rhyme or rhythm. His left hook got her cheek and she was propelled across the room. She was thankful she didn't bite her tongue or cheek, but she looked around wildly to find his position. Black*Star was approaching her and in a moment of fight-or-flight, she stood up and slashed him in the chest. It was shallow, and ran across his pecks, but it stopped him. She was watching him with bated breath before he backed off and gave her a thumbs up.

"That's what I thought. So, you wanna kill me? You ain't got the stuff, but you're willing to try. So, here's the deal - my bro and I are making this group of associates who are proficient in a... specific skill set. If you join us, we'll train you so you can kill me later. What do you say?"

He held out his hand and she actually dropped her weapon. She was confused and irritated that he wanted her to be on his side - but he was actually offering to train her? To make her even more deadly than she already was? She eyed his hand warily and bit her lip. The offer was tempting.

"Let me meet your partner. I'll give you my answer then."

"Sorry, sweetcheeks, but you gotta go through me." She blushed, indignant and embarrassed by him trying to devalue her strength with cute names, but grabbed his hand and shook it anyway. She would let him tease her for now - but when the time came, she would take all of her anger and pour it into the knife that slits his throat.

* * *

 _'By 20, she was one of the top female assassins in the world.'_

Tsubaki crept around the corner of the tenement, not a creaky board to betray her light movements. The chains of her kusarigama didn't jingle or groan, and it seemed as though she clung to all the right shadows. She had to eliminate the kingpin who had set up shop here.

The problem was that he had tons of mercenaries guarding him - that's why no one had been successful yet. Black*Star told her it would be the perfect mission for her to flex her stealth skills. She had fluidly dodged each and every patrolling merc that came her way, hiding in the rafters and in dilapidated rooms.

He was near the top, but she wasn't sure which room. The third and fifth floors were the highest in security. Tsubaki encountered trouble when she hit the sixth floor. There were four guards standing outside of two doors. There was no one else in sight. She crouched low to the ground and began to approach them from the shadows, like a lioness on the prowl.

One of them spotted her. She had been surprised by their ability to sense her - but this told her that they weren't ordinary guards. One of them pulled out a shotgun, but she swung one of her sickles in their direction. It was sliced in half, and she used the momentum to make quick work of the group that had begun to move in on her. She knelt down in the center as they all converged, and she cleanly slit their throats. The chains still made no sound.

She opened the door and spotted the man waiting for her. He was unaware it was someone other than his men.

"Hey, dude, we should order some pizza." She crept up behind him and wrapped the chain around his throat. As he began to panic and struggle she tightened her hold and she slowly choked him to death. His body began to convulse before he finally ceased movement. She waited another minute to be sure he was dead before she allowed his body to drop carelessly to the floor. She heard the sound of sirens fast approaching and took her leave through a broken window. Mission accomplished.

* * *

 _'At 25, she did her part in the killing of nine innocent people, including my unborn daughter, in a small wedding chapel in El Paso, Texas. But on that day, four years ago, she made_ _ **one big mistake**_ _._

 _She should have killed ten._

 _However, before satisfaction would be mine... First thing's first.'_

"Wiggle your big toe." She whispered vehemently, for the five-hundreth time. She thought she was hallucinating for a second, before she realized that her toe was actually wiggling. She had gotten a response. She grinned in victory and cheered quietly under the tarp before taking a deep breath. A determined gleam entered her eyes.

"Hard part's over. Now, let's get these other piggies wiggling."

13 hours later

She lifted the tarp and neatly folded it in her lap before pushing herself out of the sidecar. Her feet hit the cold, smooth pavement as she walked around the bike in a circle before swinging her leg over it confidently. She started the bike with a loud roar and she laughed maniacally before peeling out of the garage.

She strode confidently towards the ticket window and pushed a credit card and her passport towards the man on the other side. He took it and looked at her, questioning and irritable.

"Okinawa. One way." She smiled, sickly sweet, and he rolled his eyes slightly before stamping her passport and running her card. A ticket printed out and he tore it off carelessly before handing it to her and pointing to his left, indicating that her terminal was on that side of the airport. She quickly pulled her luggage behind her and got it checked before proceeding onto the plane that was boarding. She found her seat and row, settling in for the 20 hour flight ahead of her.


	5. Chapter 4: the MAN from OKINAWA

**chapter 4: the MAN from OKINAWA**

so, since there is a lot of japanese that'll be coming up in the next two chapters, i want to let u all know that i plan to literally just write 'in japanese' in parenthesis. Seriously. that's how i'm handling it, i hope that's cool since i a) don't speak japanese and b) don't want to butcher it terribly if i even attempted it.

* * *

 **The island of OKINAWA, JAPAN.**

This was a bad part of town he had set up in.

But, then again, she had no idea what type of man she was going to meet. She followed a map that one of the local kids had drawn for her in exchange for enough money to buy a bowl of soup. It was a poor neighborhood, a working-class hub for farmers and fishermen. She was surprised to see clean-looking cloths hung in front of his shop, but she took a deep breath and put on her best game face before pulling it back and taking a step inside.

She froze momentarily, realizing he hadn't heard her. She called out a greeting and he mumbled something back to her in Japanese - he turned around to face his customer and tossed his newspaper away, only for his eyes to grow wide and for his paper to miss the counter completely. She was wearing a mask of naivety and cuteness, a smile slowly spreading to warm her entire face.

"Welcome," he breathed out in a thick accent. "You... English?" He said, a questioning light filling his eyes. She was beautiful - he was struggling to find words to accomodate her. He also knew from the way she had approached him and the way she carried herself that there was much more to her than she led on. An anger hung around her, heavy and dark like smoke but hidden behind a thin veil of perfume.

"Almost, American." She played along for now, feigning ignorance; he had made her, she could see the glimmer in his eye.

"American! Welcome, American." He grinned at her, and it warmed her on the inside, if only for a moment. He motioned for her to come closer, wanting less space between them for a better advantage, should this end badly. He hated people searching for him - they all wanted the same thing, uncaring of the cost to his soul.

"Domo." She said hesitantly before approaching.

"You not from here." He said in a deadpan tone. Slight fear filled her eyes but she covered it with a nervous laugh as she waved him off. She heard a rickshaw pass by outside.

"Yeah! I'm still trying to get the hang of speaking, I can read most of the characters. May I sit at the bar?" She had been playing with her heavy bag for a few minutes, and he was taken aback. How could he have forgotten to treat her like a customer? He motioned for her to take a seat in front of him, and he began to slip into the routine of a normal person just wanting some sushi.

"Oh! Sure, sure! Please, sit." She set her bag and her souvenier fan on the chair beside her, and she had to hop up to sit on the stool. She slowly turned back to the older, dark-skinned man as he began to speak again.

"What other words did you learn?" He asked lightly, wiping his hands clean with a towel. Maybe he could defuse the situation before things got sticky, if they still did. Before she had a chance to answer, he sighed and closed his eyes. He motioned for her to wait a moment before turning back and shouting in Japanese to his assistant.

(In Japanese)"We have a customer! Bring out some tea, quickly!" He accentuated his sentence with a clap of his hands. Sometimes those kids really lacked a sense of urgency.

(In Japanese)"But we just started a new show!" Their child-like response made the man stop what he was doing and wince painfully in irritation. His face soon took on frustrated look and he cursed in English, then he cursed them in Japanese. He shouted for them to hurry it up before smiling back at his customer in a reassuring manner. He didn't want her to ask any questions, just eat the sushi and drink the tea and leave quietly.

(In Japanese)"The tea's hot. Why don't you serve it yourself for once?" He yelled for them to shut up and to get out there now, and he turned to apologize to his customer for using such language in front of her. She assured him it was fine, that she understood, before he changed the subject.

"Uh, what other Japanese do you know?"

"Oh, let's see... Arigato." He mimicked her word and nodded in approval, and went back to slicing fish. He hated tourists. He hated when they came in here and tried to speak to him like they had lived here their whole lives. It was killing him to listen to her words, even though they rolled off her tongue the right way, but he wanted this woman with her oppressive aura to leave and never look back.

"Um, oh- I already said 'domo', right?" He nodded vigorously and grunted in affirmation, but didn't look up from his delicate cuts.

"Konn-itch-iwa!" He stopped cutting and set down his knife and waggled a finger with a kind smile. He was so close to turning his knife on her, but he patiently leaned forward and enunciated the word for her, putting stress on the _ni_ and _wa._ He told her to repeat it for him and she did so perfectly. A grin threatened to split his face as he nodded in approval again.

"You say Japanese word like you Japanese."

"Psht, now you're makin fun of me!" She said with a laugh before leaning back a bit more.

"No no no! Seriously. Pronunciation very good! You say arigato like we say arigato!" He laughed with her, though she was much more nervous. She had gone into this hoping she could seem stupid enough to not be a threat - but he was perceptive, just like Soul told her. She began to thank him for the compliment before correcting herself and saying _arigato_ with a deep voice.

"You should learn Japanese! Very easy."

"No kidding. I heard it was kinda hard." He confirmed her suspicions but once again brought up her excellent Japanese accent. She laughed again, almost in a flirty way, just to try to make him drop the subject. He did so himself, by raising up her sashimi and sushi dishes while apologizing for the wait. He seemed rather proud of himself until his face fell. He tossed his knife onto the magnetic strip in anger before shouting to his companions again.

(In Japanese)"Where's the damn tea!" He huffed angrily before cursing again in Japanese. A shadow was cast behind the bead door to his right before two twins popped out from behind it. They came up beside her and tugged on her pant leg, making her look down - they were maybe five or six years old. They were giving her a questioning look before asking her something in Japanese. She asked them confusedly what they were trying to say and looked back to the man cutting fish to help her out. He did a drinking motion and she nodded in understanding.

"A bottle of warm sake, please?" He stopped cutting again and looked at her with admiration. He cheered happily and demanded the two go and fetch it immediately.

(In Japanese)"Sake? In the middle of the day?" The continued to peer up at her with deep eyes, but she was staying focused on the man in front of her as he continued to berate them.

(In Japanese)"Day, night, afternoon - who gives a damn - Get the sake! Get the sake!"

(In Japanese)"How come we always have to get the sake? For thirty years, YOU make the fish, WE get the sake. If this were the military, we would be generals by now!" The man behind the counter smiled at his assistants, who had climbed onto the counter and were pointing accusingly at him, before grabbing both of their fingers.

(In Japanese)"Oh, so you'd be generals, huh? If you were generals, I'd be Emperor, and you'd still get the sake! So shut up and get the sake! (In English) Do you understand?" The twins said something in Japanese, and mockingly asked if he understood before the man grew impatient and threw a knife at them. They scurried off behind the bead curtain to retrieve the sake.

He apologized to her again and she smiled reassuringly to him. As the silence began to settle over them he began to wonder what a woman like her was doing in parts like these.. He asked if it was her first time in Japan, and she nodded affirmative.

"What brings you to Okinawa?"

"I came to see a man." Her jovial tone was gone now, and she was watching him intently as he continued slicing fish. This is where he had hoped it wouldn't go.

"Oh, yeah? You have a friend in Okinwawa?"

"Not quite."

"Not friend?" He asked, incredulous - this woman had proven to be quite the interesting tourist. Travelling half a world away to find a man she didn't know because of rumors she had probably heard.

"I never met him." He felt himself go a bit cold before he noticed his hand begin to shake.

"Never? Who is he? May I ask?" She was quiet for a few minutes before she whispered her reply.

"Kilik Rung." A glass fell in the other room and shattered. The man stopped cutting and stared hard at a point behind the counter that she couldn't see. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers, and an entire lifetime sped before his eyes. He stared her down for a long while, before he opened his mouth to utter a single sentence. She wasn't playing around anymore.

(In Japanese)"What do you want with Kilik Rung?"

(In Japanese)"I need Japanese steel." She said, unwaveringly. He seemed to reel back at her flawless speech, and the gut feeling from earlier came back. He was dealing with someone skilled in deceit. He knew from the moment they first met eyes that this woman was dangerous. He laughed at her now, ready to shoot her down.

(In Japanese)"Why do you need Japanese steel?"

(In Japanese)"I have vermin to kill."

"You must have big rats, you need Kilik Rung steel." He said in awe of her audacity. She leaned forward and pursed her lips.

"Huge."

He lead her to the bead door that the twins had emerged from, and motioned for her to go up the stairs. She slowly ascended and pushed hard on the little attic door on the ceiling. It gave easily and she ascended into the new room, looking around and feeling butterflies start in her stomach.

The walls were covered in weapon racks that were used for various purposes - there were a few maces, a couple of stray scythes and spears. The majority were his infamous swords; anyone who made it out of those days claimed that one Rung sword would kill every enemy you had, even the ones you didn't know about yet. They were used in clan uprisings, assassinations, and betrayals. His name was stained in blood, but his art was perfect.

She wandered the room until she came upon a large scythe - the blade was solid black with a silver design. She reached out to grab it before stopping herself, looking back to him for permission. He simply nodded and she reached out, taking it by the cold metal shaft and swinging it around a bit. It felt a bit heavy, and it was too big for her, but it had been so long since she held one of these.

"Try the sword on the rack over there. Second one down." She gently laid the scythe back against the wall and headed towards the rack and picked up a sword with a yellow decorative tie. She pulled it from its sheath and inspected its immaculate blade. He climbed into the room and watched her face fill with wonder and awe.

"Funny. You like samurai swords... I like baseball." He pulled a softball from his pocket and threw it at her with no warning; he was amazed to see that she had cut it in half. But, then again, that's why she was here.

(In Japanese)"I wanted to show you these. However, someone such as you, who knows so much, must surely know, I no longer make instruments of death. What I have here, I keep for their aesthetic and sentimental value." He had slowly meandered towards the racks of swords, and he looked at them blankly. He had killed so many people over the years - his name synonymous with death itself.

(In Japanese)"Yet, proud as I am of my life's work... I have retired." he reached over and took the sword from her hands and re-sheathed it. He turned his back to her and went to put it back on the rack.

"Then just give me one of these."

"These are not for sale." He said firmly. He heard her laugh briefly at his obstinancy.

"I didn't say 'sell me'. I said 'give me'." He laughed hard at her; who was she, and why should he help her? He told her as much, and her face became cold and wrapped in shadows. Her voice became gravelly as she answered his question.

"Because my vermin is a former student of yours. And considering the student, I'd say you have a rather large obligation." His entire body went numb as his thoughts all connected back to one person. Only one man could create such a vengeful creature from a person who was once his friend; one man that could give betrayal a human's name and form. The numbness turned to explosive rage as he slowly approached a dusty window. He paused as he raised his hand and he began to write a name, one neither of them dared speak.

He seemed to rest his forehead against the wall, composing himself before turning to exit the room via the stairs. He took two steps before pausing and turning back to her.

(In Japanese)"You can sleep here. It will take me a month to make the sword. I suggest you spend it practicing." He didn't look into her eyes and left quickly, and she felt her heart swell with relief. She strode to the window and erased the name, a small part of her brought closer to peace with the acceptance of Kilik Rung.

one month later

She knelt before him and his assistants; Kilik held the sword delicately in both of his hands, checking the scabbard for any cracks or imperfections. His hand slowly slid towards the hilt and began to pull the blade from its sheath - revealing his trademark insignia; a skull mask with three points at the mouth, staring angrily and proudly at whomever it may come in contact with. The twins reached out and gently pulled the scabbard away.

Kilik examined the blade vertically and flipped it, making sure its edge was fine and the metal was straight. He layed it across his arm, which was clad in ceremonial robes, and he felt the weight of what he was doing press against him. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh that did nothing to ease the burden on his soul.

(In Japanese)"I've completed doing what I swore an oath to God, 28 years ago, to never do again." His eyes were clouded with sadness and his brow scrunched in distress.

(In Japanese)"I have created 'something that kills people'. And in that purpose, I was a success." The twins watched on with a mixture of disappointment and acceptance. They knew how hard it was for him to go back on his word - but this cause was just. He would bear this black mark on his eternal soul for the rest of his life, but he would rather that than allow a man such as Soul to continue to draw breath.

(In Japanese)"I've done this becase philosophically, I am sympathetic to your aim." He raised his arms a bit and the twins quickly moved to re-sheath the sword.

(In Japanese)"I can tell you with no ego, this is my finest sword. If on your journey, you should encounter God..." He took the sheath and sword from his assistants, who slowly backed away, and he pushed it snugly into its scabbard.

(In Japanese)"God will be cut." He leaned forward and handed her the sword. She wrapped her fingers around it but he did not let go. Finally, they met eyes; his were burning with such an intensity that she felt the push of his next words.

(In Japanese)"Yellow-haired warrior... Go." She stared at him as he left the full weight of the katana rest against her palms. For the first time, she felt like she was going to be successful in her endeavor. Her eyes teared up a bit but she pushed the feeling away. She closed her eyes and steadied herself, before giving Kilik a small smile.

"Domo." She brought the sword close to her chest and held it there for a minute, letting it really become a part of her. She didn't take long to savor the feeling; she had somewhere to be.


	6. Chapter 5: Showdown

My original plan for the location was actually a hotpot resteraunt; but when i began the chapter, me and nosub had visited a sushi place and just. yes. we decided on that exact place for the location. and once again, any japanese used in the dialogue i will just write (in Japanese) before whatever they speak because i can't properly translate & i accept that

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Showdown at House of Blue Leaves**

 _It was one year after the massacre in El Paso, Texas, that Soul backed his Nippon progeny financially and philosphically in her Shakespearian-in-magnitude power struggle with the other Yakuza clans over who would rule vice in the city of Tokyo. When the final sword was sheathed, it was Tsubaki Nakatsukasa and her powerful posse, the Crazy 88, that proved the victor._

One man laughed hard at the other's joke and soon everyone joined in, and Tsubaki felt a bit more at ease as she allowed a smile to spread onto her face. She was surrounded by the entirety of the Yakuza, the foot soldiers sitting elsewhere in the resteraunt that she now owned.

 _The pretty lady on Tsubaki's right -who's dressed like she's heading to a night club- is Tsubaki's lawyer, best friend, and second leuitenant; the half-French, half-Japanese Elizabeth Thompson, another former protegee of Soul's._

Tsubaki glanced over her shoulder and made eye contact with Liz, who also seemed to be enjoying the relative peace, though the men's raucous laugher startled her again - she began to listen to the joke as she watched Tsubaki laugh with them.

 _The young girl in the school-girl uniform is Tsubaki's personal bodyguard, seventeen year-old Patricia Thompson, younger sister to Elizabeth Thompson. Patricia may be young, but what she lacks in age, she makes up for in madness._

(In Japanese)"Do you like Berettas?"

The man next to her was trying to flirt, but his limited knowledge told her that he was as much a criminal as she was. She finished a long gulp from her bottle, some garbage that the man at the bar gave her free of charge. She was nearing its end, and she was also irritated with the man beside her.

(In Japanese)"Berettas... Italian trash."

She slammed the bottle down and stared at the different alcohols on the other side of the bar, wondering how exactly she was going to handle this guy when a small smirk crossed her features as she turned to him. He looked nervous and was scrawny; this was going to work so beautifully, she could hardly hold her excitement in as a small giggle escaped her.

(In Japanese)"Do you want to fuck me?" He sputtered and started laughing, trying to ignore the question; but she saw through him.

(In Japanese)"Don't laugh. Do you want to fuck me; yes or no?" She was giving him a serious look, and he quieted before looking shyly into her eyes and nodding.

She was so fast that he could hardly even see it coming, unable to dodge or direct her attack into the bar. Her kusarigama, given to her by Tsubaki herself, was plunged into his stomach. He shouted in pain, struggling for breath.

(In Japanese)"How 'bout now, big boy? Do you still wish to penetrate me, or is it I who has penetrated you?" The grin that took over her face was maniacle, and she let out a long laugh at her joke while she twisted the blade and tore it out, making a large wound in his abdomen from which blood began to pour. It was followed by the dropping of his intestines as they fell against her leg, and she couldn't help but grab her sides; she was laughing so damn hard.

 _See what I mean?_

Liz watched her sister slam down her bottle of sake, punching the shoulder of the man beside her. He gave her an irritated look and began to berate her.

 _The guy with the stripes in his hair, a black suit and a matching Kato mask is Death The Kid; head general of Tsubaki's personal army, the Crazy 88._

The men continued to sip from their cups and compliment the food; Tsubaki was smiling and laughing, everyone enjoying the evening as thoroughly as they could. It did not escape Liz's notice, however, that there was someone who was displeased enough to make a scene out of it.

 _And just in case you were wondering; how_ _ **could**_ _a member of a long dead clan, with no social standing, become the boss of all bosses in Tokyo, Japan? I'll tell you. The subject of Tsubaki's lineage and blood came up before the council only once - the night Tsubaki assumed power over the crime council. The man who seems bound and determined to break the mood is boss Tanaka. And what boss Tanaka thinks is..._

She watched in mixed horror and amusement as he slammed his fist down onto his plate of food, scattering it and pieces of glass everywhere. All conversation ceased, the smoke from the cigars seemed to leak out slower; like the air had stopped as well. Everyone's eyes were on Tanaka, waiting for an answer. He busied himself with wiping off his hand and puffing on his cigarette before putting it out in favor of putting pressure on his wound. He sighed in agitation; another one of the bosses, Katsura, was the first to recover.

(In Japanese)"Boss Tanaka! What's the meaning of this outburst? This is a time for celebration!"

(In Japanese)"And what, exactly, are we celebrating? The perversion of our illustrious council?" Everyone was silent, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Not all of them had been for Tsubaki's takeover - but now that it had gone through, it would not do to upset their new leader. To think that Tanaka was angry enough to protest her heritage to her face was both impressive and pitiful. Another boss, Sodo, spoke up as well.

(In Japanese)"I will not tolerate this! You're disrespecting our sister. Apologize!" At that moment, Tsubaki decided to take control of the situation. She clapped her hands, gaining everyone's attention.

(In Japanese)"Tanaka, of what perversion do you speak?" She feigned ignorance, and Liz knew that she was going to prove a point, here and now, to anyone else that still doubted her. All eyes were on him, the silence mounting.

(In Japanese)"My father, along with yours, and along with yours, started this council. And while you laugh like asses, they weep in the afterlife," He shouted angrily, making eye contact with one or two members, who just yesterday had been against Tsubaki's reign. They all cursed him, but quickly became quiet as he began to speak again.

(In Japanese)"Over the perversion committed today."

(In Japanese)"Outrageous! Tanaka, it is you who insults this council!" The man sitting closest to Tsubaki threw his napkin at Tanaka as he shouted angrily at him. Tanaka recoiled and spit venom at the man, throwing the cloth back at him as Tsubaki calmly called for them to settle down.

(In Japanese)"Gentlemen. Tanaka obviously has something on his mind. By all means, allow him to express it." She was making eye contact with him, and he felt a chill run through him; but he didn't blink, he continued to stare at her from the other side of the table as he unwaveringly told her what, in fact, was on his mind.

(In Japanese)"I speak, of the perversion done to this council, which I love, more than my own children, by making some clanless, classless, _gutter humping bitch its leader!_ " By the time the words were out of his mouth, she was already kneeling down in front of him, her form perfect, as she unsheathed her sword and cleanly cut off his neck in one, fluid move.

His head flew off somewhere behind her and she didn't bother to look, the blood from his neck beginning to soak through her black kimono. The other bosses gasped in surprise and horror, and one of them had the pleasure of boss Tanaka's head rolling onto his plate. Liz and Patti made eye contact, smiling in approval at her barbarity. As the blood began to die down, Tsubaki addressed her horrified underlings.

(In Japanese)"I didn't think you would understand my intentions unless I had a clear platform from which to speak." Her words came slowly as she rose from her crouched position, whipping her blade down to get the blood off; it splattered in one man's face, and she paid his gasp no mind as she put her sword back in its scabbard. She made eye contact with each man before continuing on in a light voice.

(In Japanese)"As your leader, I encourage you from time to time, and always in a respectful manner, to question my logic. If you're unconvinced that a particular plan of action I've decided is the wisest, tell me so; but allow me to convince you. And I promise you, right here and now, that no subject will ever be taboo. Except, of course, the subject that was just under discussion. The price you pay for bringing up my clan's lineage, or my prior social standing, as a negative, is I collect your fucking head," she held up Tanaka's severed head and showed it to the council like it was a trophy, "just like this fucker right here. Now if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now is the fucking time!"

The were all quiet as she slowly lowered his head; her eyes once again went around the circle and saw a mixture of fear and respect; but there was no longer a question in their eyes. She dropped the head and it hit the table with a dull thud.

(In Japanese)"I didn't think so. Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned."

* * *

((BACK TO THE BRIDE))

With a little digging around, she managed to find herself a disguise and a bike to ride around town for the night; the only thing she had needed was a location of Liz Thompson. It wasn't hard to find the right pimp in the wrong part of town who had the info on the underground that she had needed - at least, he had given her the location of Tsubaki's friends-only party that was happening in the upscale part of town.

He also divulged that Liz happened to be running late, as he had seen her car at the intersection at the end of his turf a few minutes before she had pulled up. It had cost her a few more yen than she would have liked to spend, but it was worth it. She got on her bike and tried to catch up to the black car; she could see the silhouette of a lone woman, her hair put up - she was driving a two-door car, sleek and modern, and it had the right plates. Deciding to cruise and allow Liz to lead her, she followed at a distance; when they hit their first red light, she pulled up beside Liz and stared into the passenger window, watching her as she talked on her phone.

She remembered her ringtone and her voice buzzing in the back of her head, recalling that particular moment in what was supposed to be her execution. Her eyes grew cold as she revved her bike and ran the red light, turning hard and driving to what would undoubtedly be a test of her skill and her willpower; this battle with Tsubaki would be the first of many more to come.

She had just pulled up in time to watch Tsubaki and her posse make their way into the restaurant; they bypassed a huge line and were shown up a small set of stairs to the main dining room by the owners of the establishment. The bride got off of her bike and removed her helmet, her cold stare lingering until she approached the wait desk - they suggested she go look for a lone seat up by the bar before going back to their other guests. She could see Patti trailing behind the group, heading up another small set of stairs.

They were shown to a large room, and on the other side, they were welcomed to a private area; they filed in and the owners shut the door, leaving them be for a few moments.

There was a lounge duo that sang low to accompany the bass and high to accompany the sax; the place was packed, happy hour had started only an hour ago. The bride made her way through the throngs of people, managing to find a single seat available at the bar. She ordered a simple scotch, sipping it slowly as she began to familiarize herself with the surrounding area.

There seemed to be countless side rooms constantly opening up around her to accommodate the growing patrons. There was a waiting area near the raw bar, where people mingled and drank as they enjoyed the live entertainment, waiting for seats to open up. Up a few steps from there was the main seating, a large portion unexplored by her thus far - then there was the bar, and the stage set in the middle of the room.

There were sliding glass doors against the wall to her right, though the curtains were drawn tight and they seemed to be locked as well. A flash caught her eye, and a raucous laugh filled the room; her attention was drawn to the opened door on the other side of the stage, camouflaged by seats and dancing guests.

She caught a glimpse of Tsubaki and her goons; this was the perfect time to put her plans into action.

A server approached her and asked if he could get her anything - she put in an order for green tea and edamamee to start; if anything, it would keep him off of her back for a while. The bride finished her scotch and made her way to them, beginning to devise a plan for infiltrating that small room and taking out four of the most powerful people in Japan.

She hung out on the other side of the thin door, listening to the conversation until a small knife flew through the screen door. Someone had detected her, and she could only assume it was Tsubaki. Thinking fast, the bride jumped into the rafters just as Patricia Thompson emerged from the room, drawing a tanto from her side. The bride attempted to fix her footing discreetly, trying to not draw her attention.

Her eyes roved the room, looking for anyone even remotely suspicious; she could see people making fools of themselves on the dance floor, a few employees handing out food and drinks. Patti spared the room one more glance before sheathing her tanto and retrieving Tsubaki's dagger. Her eyes cautiously scanned the crowd again before withdrawing back into their personal room, annoyed.

After lowering herself from the ceiling, she made her way back towards the bathroom, unzipping her bright gold race suit and shedding it. Adjusting a matching outfit that she had donned earlier -knowing that she could use the extra layer, even in the springtime- she stuffed her racing suit into the small garbage can and placed her palm on the closed door, her breath hitched and her heart stopped when she heard a familiar ringtone.

Slowly and as quietly as she could, the bride pushed open the stall door to see none other than Elizabeth Thompson standing at the sink, looking rather elegant in a sweeping black gown, having a heated +discussion on the phone in French.

The all-too familiar fury filled her again as she grit her teeth, a plan coming together as she continued to watch Liz. Slowly, she opened her door and waited for her to turn to her left -even just slightly- and she swooped in. Grabbing the tight bun on the back of her head, the bride used her surprise to smash her face into the sink top. The phone clattered to the floor, accidentally getting stomped while Liz was drug to a toilet stall where she was beaten into submission.

"You're coming with me, and you're not gonna make a sound. Got it?" Liz nodded weakly, her voice failing her. She was _supposed_ to be dead. She was supposed to be _dead_. _She was supposed to be dead_. The thought cycled through her mind so many times, so many different ways that she hardly noticed her captor pushing her harshly out of the restrooms, startling a few guests. They made their way to the other side of the stage, the crowd becoming quiet as they saw a woman, bruised and beaten, standing hostage to another woman with a sword.

"Tsubaki Nakatsukasa!" She roared, making Liz jump and come back to reality. She was here for them.

(In Japanese)"You and I have unfinished business!"

The sliding door was thrown away as a few members of the Crazy 88 flew out from the room, swords at the ready. She watched with bated breath as Tsubaki and Patti emerged, looking to see who would dare call them out. She loomed behind the battered Liz, across a stage and a sea of people; she looked like Death incarnate. Tsubaki whispered her name in awe, though it was lost in the silence.

The bride locked eyes with Tsubaki for a long time, remembering that day all over again; the pain, her suffering. But most of all, she recalled Tsubaki staring back down at her with a strange mixture of pity and triumph. In her anger, she raised her sword -eyes still locked with her enemy- and brought it down swiftly. She had been surprised at how cleanly and easily it cut through the flesh of Liz's shoulder, severing her arm. It fell uselessly to the floor, Liz's terrified and disgusted scream tearing through the heavy silence. She saw the startled look that crossed Tsubaki's face, and she still hadn't broken eye contact; even as Liz fell to the floor in a heap. She began to slowly approach her target as the crowd began to panic, screaming and fleeing in fright. They ran around her, straight to the exit as she continued to walk around the stage, inching closer and closer until the entire restaurant was cleared out.

One of Tsubaki's suited posse rose to the occassion, only a few feet in front of her when he rose his sword; she was faster, kicking his sword into the ceiling and stabbing him through his gut. She sent another lackey -who managed to connect their blades a few times- toppling over when she cut off his leg; though the bride cut off their head after another minute.

(In Japanese)"Tear the bitch apart!" Tsubaki called out mercilessly, the remaining five bodyguards running towards her - they split up, three going around the other side of the stage to stand at her back, and two in front of her. As the two in front of her swept their swords, she leaned back and stood on her hands after avoiding their attack. She let her momentum continue to carry her as she slammed her feet on two men's heads before stabbing her sword up into the heart of the third. She rolled back and cut off the feet of her other two assailants before getting back to her feet, returning back to Tsubaki's line of sight.

"So, Tsubaki. Anymore subordinates for me to kill?" She smirked and cast Tsubaki a defiant eye, to which was greeted with a soft and sweet, "Hi."

Her attention was drawn to Patti, a cold pit settling in her stomach. She had mutilated her sister just now, and the Thompsons were very protective of each other.

(In Japanese)"Patti, right?" Patti grinned and nodded in affirmation, the chain of her kusarigama rattling through the empty rooms.

(In Japanese)"And you're the Scythemeister."

(In Japanese)"Our reputations proceed us." Patti let out a short laugh before agreeing, still approaching her enemy cautiously.

"Patti... I'm gonna ask you to walk away from this fight. You know how this will end. I'm begging you." To her astonishment, Patti began to chuckle quietly, before it evolved into a deep belly laugh that had her slapping her knee. They could see each other clearly now, no stage or chairs between them.

(In Japanese)"You call that begging? You can beg better than that." A devious grin consumed her face, all traces of joking gone. They rose their weapons, Patti twirling one sickle almost lazily on her left side before it shot out, cutting her hip. She hissed in pain, watching as Patti began to twirl the other sickle while humming a children's tune. Both blades shot towards her this time and she managed to redirect them to a set of chairs with a wide sweep of her blade. Patti rushed her, and the bride could hardly keep up; she swung a few times, trying to cow Patti into making a mistake, only for the other blonde to retreat quickly. Thinking she had the upper hand, the bride pursued her target, only for Patti to turn around and shoot her blade straight at her chest. She had misjudged the distance and it only grazed her chest, much to Patti's dismay.

Quickly, Patti threw the other end of the kusarigama and it wrapped around the bride's sword. They struggled over it for a few moments before it was thrown a few feet away onto the stage. Patti aimed more carefully and the thick part of the sickle twisted around and hit her hard enough to knock her down and force blood out of her mouth. She writhed in pain for a minute before rolling away from the blade again; it was stuck in the floor where she had just been.

Thinking quickly, she used the chain to pull Patti closer and kicked her hard in the chest; propelling herself from the girl, she landed on a large table. Patti mumbled something, frustrated, and began to charge her again; she jumped onto a table not far away, her sickle menacingly whipping through the air over her head. It shot out again and the bride jumped away to another table, watching as the one she had just occupied was shattered, along with the plates and glasses on it. The blade bounced back towards Patti and cut her hand. She cursed loudly, sucking on the wound angrily while staring down at the bride, who had abandoned her table. Taking the chain in her hand once more, Patti smiled again as she decided on her plan of action.

She threw her blade in a wide, sweeping arc that the bride thought she could disrupt; she blocked the chain with her arm and watched in horror as Patti tugged hard on the other side. The weight of the blade made the chain tighten and whip around her neck before the sickle lodged into the wall of the bar. Patti tightened the chain with every step she took towards the bride, standing over her menacingly. Patti watched two of her blood vessels pop before she felt a searing pain in her foot - she let go of the chain briefly, just long enough for the bride to stand up and shove a thin piece of glass through Patti's eye.

She fell to the floor, convulsing and screaming in pain; the bride picked up her sickle and cut her throat with it, the gurgling noises fading as she went and picked up her sword from the stage.

Her eyes were on Tsubaki now, and she watched as her opponent drew her own tanto in anger - until the sounds of innumerable engines filled the silence. She drove the blade into the doorway before smiling at her.

"Is that what I think it is?" The bride asks in irritation.

"You didn't think it was gonna be that easy, did you?" Tsubaki chided lightly.

"You know, for a second there, _yeah_ ; I kinda did." She was rewarded with a laugh, though it seemed hollow and forced. This would either end with the death of her best men, or with the death of her old friend. Footsteps grew closer and Death the Kid emerged, not even out of breath, as he called in his gang; the Crazy 88. They were all armed to the teeth as they charged into the resteraunt, filling every space like little black ants. They surrounded her completely and she met eyes with Kid, then the men around and behind him.

This was going to be more than she bargained for.

* * *

Her sword plunged right through Death the Kid's sternum, and he was the last one left who had opposed her. He coughed up blood before his eyes went dull, and she did him the courtesy of closing them. She removed her sword and limped out of the room, facing a sea of bodies. Some were still alive, moaning and groaning in pain at their injuries - or lost limbs. She heaved a deep breath, the adrenaline beginning to wear off - she could feel her own injuries acting up - but she still had one more fight left today. She eyed the pitiful wastes on the ground with disinterest.

(In Japanese)"Those of you lucky enough to still have your lives - take them with you! However, leave the limbs you've lost. They belong to me now." She said in a taut voice - her gaze continuing to sweep across the masses on the floor.

"Except you, Liz. You stay right where you are." Her wriggling form stilled as the bride took off in the direction she had seen Tsubaki disappear. There had been a doorway beside Tsubaki's room that she had slipped out of, and she hesitantly followed. She didn't know what to expect, but this took her by complete surprise; something twisted inside of her, allowing her to almost enjoy the serenity.

It had began to snow while they were inside, and the door had lead her to an outdoor area with an overhead trellis adorned with sakura branches. The snow had collected on the ground; though the small pond stretching under the walkways and tables was still active, fish swimming lazily in circles. She stepped into the undisturbed snow beside Tsubaki's footprints as she spotted her on the far side of another walkway, staring out over the city.

"Your instrument is quite impressive," Tsubaki stated lightly as her gaze turned to the bride. The walkway connected on this side of the building, which overlooked the city; there were a few chairs and tables decorating the long stretch of wood. She came a few feet closer to her target, the closest she had been in four years.

(In Japanese)"Where was it made?"

"Okinawa." Tsubaki was probing for information - how far was she along on her list? If she had this sword made in Okinawa, was she the first person she had gone after?

(In Japanese)"Whom in Okinawa made you this steel?"

"This is Kilik Rung steel." Tsubaki's eyes were filled with fire as she spat a curse at her, calling her a liar. But the bride's gaze stayed steady as she flipped the blade around to show the tell-tale insignia of a true Kilik Rung blade - a small skull with three points at the mouth, with an angry expression. Tsubaki's look of shock passed and turned to amusement as she chuckled. She took in her opponent's condition - she looked alert, but only because of her adrenaline. She had been injured in both of her battles, and she still hadn't faced the strongest of them all.

Tsubaki began to slowly walk down the length of the snowy boards as she spoke, taking on a plummy tone that the bride had rarely been acquainted with.

(In Japanese)"Swords, however, never get tired. I hope you've saved your energy. If you haven't... You might not last five minutes. But as last looks go, you could do worse."

She had turned to face her, and gestured to the fish and the glittering city around them, the snow still falling silently around them. The bride remained silent and watched as Tsubaki removed her shoes and pushed them behind her, bowing deeply to her enemy before unsheathing her sword - a long, black blade cased in an ebony scabbard - and taking up her familiar family stance. The bride settled into her own and she attacked first, a wide downward swing that was easily deflected by Tsubaki; she rushed her attacks, trying to catch her enemy off guard; but Tsubaki continued to block and parry with both her sword and scabbard, never over-exerting herself.

She was sick of this fight already. Tsubaki lunged at her this time, her attacks disorienting and fast; she managed to cut through something - and as she settled back into her stance, they both found that Tsubaki's scabbard had been halved. She glared at it before turning her frustrated gaze to the bride, settling into the true stance her family had laid claim to.

 **Assassin's rule number one: silence. Dissolve in the darkness and erase your breath. Wait for an opening to attack your target.**

Their blades touched and it became a battle of will, the bride being the first to break the contact; she swatted her blade away and stabbed straight, followed by a step forward and slightly to the right at Tsubaki stepped forward in a stab of her own. They caught eyes for a moment, until Tsubaki rounded on her and, in one move, cut her down her back as she attempted to dodge.

Blood leaked out from the wound and she fell to a knee, crying out in pain. Her sword was still up, even as she fell backwards into the soft snow. Tsubaki let out a harsh laugh before criticizing her again;

"Silly Caucasian girl likes to play with samurai swords. You may not be able to fight like a samurai... But you can at least die like a samurai." She raised her sword again and the bride pushed the pain aside and forced herself up, her back burning and her anger fueling her movements. She stood tall to face her enemy, raising her sword threateningly.

(In Japanese)"Attack me, with everything you have." Tsubaki's sword moved like a whip, striking her blade; she reacted in time to push it back, before beginning another series of calculated swings; this was a completely different opponent.

Tsubaki began to spin, and she knew what to expect -

 **Assassin's rule number two: transpositional thinking. Analyze the target in order to predict his thoughts and movements.**

There was an intense pain that formed on her leg, making Tsubaki limp away. She watched as her opponent fell to her knee before pushing herself up again; this gave Tsubaki time to inspect her wound. The blood stained her white kimono, and now that she looked, the bride noticed her hair in disarray; there may be hope for her yet. They continued to stare at each other, a different air to their battle than when it had first begun.

(In Japanese)"For ridiculing you earlier, I apologize." She felt a pain in her chest that reminded her that this was her friend; one of her very closest. The bride's eyes filled with unshed tears as she tried to think of a proper response through all of the emotions running through her; the despair of her path would begin with someone she still held dear and respected.

(In japanese)"Accepted." Her voice was thick; the snow was still coming down around them.

They considered each other for a long time; everything unsaid between them settled in the space between them, and Tsubaki's face was calm. If she fell here, she would continue into the afterlife and exact her revenge upon White Star.

(In Japanese)"Ready?"

(In Japanese)"Come on."

They moved at the same time, swords clashing in the dead silence of early spring; they came to a stalemate, swords pinned against each other. The bride broke their entanglement, Tsubaki taking off to run down a small section of the outdoor area, the bride mirroring her on another small strip. The met in the large middle section and clashed again, the bride knocking Tsubaki's sword away and twisting around in a mimicry of her own attack -

 **Assassin's rule number three: speed. Take out the target before he notices your presence.**

A line of blood soiled the snow a few feet away. They both stood, breathless, as the top of Tsubaki's crown hit the floor. Her sword fell silently and elegantly into the snow, soon followed by its master; Tsubaki fell to her knees, unwilling to submit. She watched the bride heave in a few breaths, still in her last position. She slowly lowered her sword as Tsubaki's awed voice cut through her buzzing thoughts.

(In Japanese)"That really was a Kilik Rung sword." She refused to turn around and show her tears, but she heard her adversary's body finally hit the snow. She stumbled away from the battle scene and sat down in one of the chairs, victory firmly in her grasp. She felt its weight on her soul as she dropped her sword, all fight drained from her.

* * *

She was sitting in the front seat of Elizabeth Thompson's car, crossing out Tsubaki's name on her list. She set the notebook aside as she rolled up to the back of the hospital and dumped her body down the snowy slopes behind it. She got back into her vehicle and left her to the medics that were close by.

Liz was treated and stabilized, and as soon as she took a steadying breath, Soul walked through the door and kissed her on the top of the head. "I'm sorry about your sister, Liz." She made no move to reply, so instead he stood behind her, pulling her hair behind her in a straight sheet.

"Please... forgive me."

"Liz, no. Don't worry about that - look at what she did to you." She shook her head and bit her lip, knowing what she had done would ruin him. His hand was warm on her shoulder, the other one running up and down her arm soothingly. She could still hear her voice, threatening behind the helmet she had brought with her.

 _"I've kept you alive for two reasons. First reason, is information." Liz cursed at her in four different languages before spitting at her. The bride made no move to strike or correct her._

 _"But I am gonna ask you questions. And every time you don't give me answers, I'm gonna cut something off. And I promise you, they will be things you will miss." She grabbed Liz's arm and pressed her blade to it, drawing blood as her breaths came out in short, rapid bursts._

 _"I want all the information on the Deadly Meisters and Weapons..."_

"If you had to guess why she left you alive," Soul's voice battled for the bride's inside of her head,

 _"... what they've been doing... And where I can find them."_

"What would your guess be?" He pressed; he could see her brow scrunched in thought, before a heavy sigh fell from her lips.

"Guessing won't be necessary. She informed me. She said I could keep my wicked life for two reasons..."

 _"As I said before, I've allowed you to keep your wicked life for two reasons - and the second reason is so you can tell him, in person, everything that happened here tonight. I want him to witness the extent of my mercy by seeing your deformed body. I want you to tell him all the information you just told me. I want him to know what I know. I want him to know, I want him to know. And I want them all to know, they'll all soon be as dead as Tsubaki."_

The bride was flying back to the States to follow up on her leads for the rest of her squad - and while she sat on the plane, she decided to make herself a list. She could hear Kilik's voice in her head, advising her on how best to go about this brutal path.

 _'Revenge is never a straight line. It's a forest. And like a forest, it's easy to lose your way or to get lost, to forget where you came in.'_

She began to write numbers down the page, one for each person that would fall to her blade. The last people she hoped would ever meet that fate again.

As she got further down her list, she could hear the voices of her former associates in her head, goading her. As she finished writing the last name on her list, her mind scrounged up a distant memory - one of her and Soul, long ago, happily together. The image burned itself out of her mind as she drew a thick black line through Tsubaki's name.

 _"You're next."_


	7. Chapter 6: The Massacre at Two Pines

**Chapter 6: The Massacre at Two Pines**

i can't tell u guys how excited i was to get into part two. i'm following the uncut version of Kill Bill, so there isn't any 'recap' from the Bride, nor was there a serious reveal in the end of ch. 5. i'm hoping to switch up some of Black*Star's story, just so he and the Bride have a little more interaction that's believable for their characters but for now, here's the beginning of part two!

* * *

 _'Now, the incident that happened at the Two Pines wedding chapel -that put this whole gory story into motion- has since become legend. "Massacre at Two Pines." That's what the newspaper called it. The local TV news called it, "The El Paso Texas Wedding Chapel Massacre." How it happened, who was there, how many got killed, and who killed them changes depends on who's telling the story. In actual fact - the massacre didn't happen during a wedding at all. It was a wedding rehearsal.'_

"Now, when it comes to the part where I say, 'you may kiss the bride', you may kiss the bride." The reverend droned on about the behavioral inclinations that a wedding implied, but truthfully she was halfway between falling asleep and melting. It was hot as hell, she was pregnant as hell, and this guy was _boring_ as hell. She felt her fiance shift in his seat beside her, feeling her ire but watching as she masked it. She still had that lovely smile on her face, the white of her dress lighting up her smile even moreso; Justin Law was truly a lucky man, to have a woman that loved him and that wanted to be with him - at least, enough to agree to get married and sit through the practices with him.

"But don't stick your tongue in her mouth." Meme, Tsugumi, and Anya all burst out laughing - which caused the smile on her face to widen, trying to hide her irritation and vague disgust with her amusement. The reverend's worn face pulled itself into a frown as he waggled a finger at them.

"This may be funny to your friends, but it would be embarassing to your parents."

"We'll try to restrain ourselves, Reverend." Her voice was clipped and the look in her eyes spoke volumes of defiance - it did little to intimidate the man sitting across from her, as all of her friends were still giggling incessantly. She couldn't help but back down from an argument she was trying to cause, batting her eyelashes and smiling warmly at the man who would wed them. Her eyes trailed over to Justin, who was trying to hide his own amusement - they were all startled by the pianist, whom they had forgotten was there.

"Y'all got a song?" He mumbled shyly, his accent thick; he gulped nervously, though his deep eyes were boring into them, demanding an answer silently. The bride couldn't take her eyes off of him, but it was Justin who shook his head. She couldn't think of anything, either.

"How about _Resonance_? I can play that." She finally managed to tear her gaze from the foreign man, meeting Justin's kind blue eyes - they were crinkled at the edges with his smile. She nodded, trying to focus on him instead - she felt like she knew the organ player, but she chalked it up to nothing. It absolutely couldn't be anything.

"Ragnarok is versatile like that. Who did you used to play for, again?" The reverend's question seemed almost rhetorical - he knew the answer, but he wanted to show off the skill of this man.

"Rufus Thomas. I ran with the best; I was a Drell, I was a Drifter, hell, consider me the original Soggy Bottom Boy. If they came through here, I played with 'em." For the first time, he grinned widely at them with pride.

"He's the man," the reverend turned to his ancient-looking mother, "Forgotten anything?" She tapped her chin for a moment in thought before snapping her fingers -which looked much too frail for her to do- and gestured to the room.

"Oh, seating. Now, the way we normally do this, is we have the bride's side," he gestured to the left side of the room, "and the groom's side," he gestured to the right side of the room, "but since the bride ain't got nobody comin, and the groom has far too many comin..." He trailed off and let the statement hang over them - finally, the bride's ever defiant eye was cast down.

"Well, they're coming from pretty far off - Oklahoma." Meme's accent was atrocious, and it actually drove the bride to laugh out loud - Justin followed quickly after, but the reverend's wrinkles dug themselves deeper as he frowned at their flippance.

"Well, I don't see a problem with the groom's side sharing the bride's side. But, you really don't have anyone? Even as a sign of good faith?" Justin felt her tense up beside him, but no one else noticed. She was struggling to form a coherent response, not sure if the insult was meant or not - she was completely alone in this world now, except for her friends and her fiance.

"I don't have anyone... Except for Justin, and my friends." The reverend echoed his earlier question, a bit more forcefully and with more disbelief. Her polite smile was gone as she grit her teeth against the anger she felt.

"I'm working on it." She rubbed her stomach and felt her ire beging to ebb away as her friends quickly swooped in to defend her against the reverend, as he seemed unconvinced. She turned around to face them and leaned in close.

"I'm not feeling well, and they are pissing me off. So you guys listen to them and fill me in later, I need some air." She stood up without making any excuses, leaving her friends to explain however they had to. Her eyes met Justin's and she saw his concern, though he let her continue on alone. As she slowly waddled out of the church, she let her feelings overwhelm her.

They were getting married in a few days. She was going to get married and start a new, normal life with her family and friends. They would go to the beach, barely make rent some months, and they would argue when things got rough - but this was the life she had dreamed of for her child, and she wouldn't ever dare turn her back on that.

As her thoughts continued, she thought she heard the quietest sound - almost like the whine of a violin.

Her head snapped up from the floorboards, and she felt her heart jump into her throat. Her breath hitched and she felt a blush run to her face as she paused in her strides. She stared at the open doors of the small chapel, turning her head to look and see if anyone else had heard - but the noise sounded again and she clutched her veil (the same veil she was supposed to wear, the one she had been twisting and wringing for the past hour) for dear life. She held her head up high and tried not to break into a canter as she mosied onto the small wooden walkway in front of the building. She leaned against a post to her right, another note making its way to her ears - she turned to her left and there, sitting on a bench against the church, was the man she had been avoiding for three months.

His white hair was slicked back, not a single grain of sand marring it. He was staring out over on the horizon, his arms raised and gripping a smaller violin (not quite a viola) and she watched as his bow slid fluidly across the strings; he almost seemed like he didn't know she was there. She continued to stare at him, a smile taking over her face once again.

He was still perfect, just like she remembered. She wasn't even listening to the song anymore - just the pounding of her heart in her ears. He was here for her. She was almost startled when he lowered the violin and turned his head towards her, his dazzling red eyes catching her off guard.

"Hey, kid." His voice wrapped around her and filled her with warmth - he hadn't changed at all. There was a kind glint in his eyes, something she was unaccustomed to. Her smile turned into a pout as she reprimanded him for calling her a kid - it was something he always used to do, and once, she had been fond of it. His smile never wavered, not even as she asked her first question.

"How'd you find me?"

"I'm the man." She stepped back to get a better look at him, one hand resting on her stomach. She was eyeing him up, that expectant look on her face.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, my brother bet me 2 grand that I couldn't play a piece he wrote before the month was up. So, I just happened across this fine bit of scenery," He gestured to the horizon stretching before them, a dusty wasteland by all accounts, "and decided to try and work through the second page." He set down his violin and let out a heavy sigh before heaving himself off of the bench like it was the most work he's ever put into anything. He began to take a few confidents steps towards her, that devilish smirk still on his face.

"And now, I'm looking at a real angel." Her eyes narrowed and her hasty reply was less of a question, and more of a demand.

"Why are you here."

"Last look." His eyes roamed her body and she almost couldn't think of anything to say back to him, either for fear of finding out his true intentions or because she was genuinely surprised that he was being this honest and petty at the same time. He watched as she struggled for words, before that expectant look crossed her face again.

"Are you gonna be nice?"

"I've never been nice my whole life. But I really will try not to be a total dick." She let out a laugh and took a few steps towards him as well, wanting to hit him upside the head for being vulgar in front of her - it was something she had always done, something she had once been fond of doing.

"I always told you, you'll never get anywhere without playing nice with others." She stopped, her hands still wringing the fabric of her veil while pressing against her stomach; she was still hoping that he really was here just to say goodbye.

"I guess that's why I worked alone, till I met you." His feet moved on his own this time, still so much space left between them; it had been so long since he had seen her, it was so easy for him to lose track of why he had come here.

"You got a bun in the oven." He dropped his voice low, and while his head was tilted to the side his eyes were boring into hers. She didn't bother dignifying the statement with a reply, she simply smiled coyly at him while taking one step closer.

"Your boytoy doesn't like to play around. He the gangly blonde?" He whistled sharply, his face getting hot despite himself; he saw her step and countered with his own, and now they were standing just two feet away from each other.

"He's not gangly, he's proportionate. His name's Justin Law. I thought you said you were gonna be nice."

"I said I wouldn't be a dick, and that's hardly a promise," he caught the sharp look in her eye and changed the course of his sentence, "but you're right. Sorry. What's he do?"

"He runs a used-record store here, in El Paso. He donates what he can to church and the community." He was staring at her as she explained slowly, not meeting his gaze as she instead focused on a strange mark in the wood by his feet.

"And what do you do?" She changed her stance and smiled up at him, almost mockingly.

"I work in the record store." He chuckled at her and began making grand hand gestures, mocking her and Justin's first meeting as some sort of Romeo-and-Juliet affair; and she could see his genuine humor, no darkness implied. It was yet another thing to add to her list of once fond attributes.

"Do you like it at this conglomerate of records?"

"Yeah. I like it a lot, smartass. I listen to all sorts of music, I learn new things every day; it's really cool." Her entire demeanor changed and he noticed one of her hands press against her swollen belly.

"It'll be a great enviroment for my little girl to grow up in." His face immediately went blank and he discreetly sucked in a long breath before letting his eyes meet hers again.

"As opposed to jetting around the world and killing human beings for vast sums of money?" She leaned in quickly, a threat; she didn't respond, but he knew the look in her eyes well enough to know that this wasn't up for debate.

"Well, to each his own. However, all cock-blockery aside, I'm looking forward to meeting... Justin. I happen to be particular with whom I'll leave you with." Her eyes finally relaxed, not even breaking eye contact when she asked him if he would like to come to the wedding.

"Only if I can sit on the bride's side."

"It'll be a little lonely over there."

"Your side always was a bit lonely. But I wouldn't sit anywhere else." She had so many questions to ask him, and she wondered if now was the time, or if that time had passed already; time always flowed differently around him.

"I had this dream about you-" She cut him off abruptly waving and calling her approaching fiance to avoid any topics like this one; she didn't want to live that life anymore, whether it be in his memory or with him, she wouldn't be part of it. She mumbled something to him, her fake name, and she tucked her arm through his and sent a radiant smile to Justin.

Justin Law stood about 5'8, a good four inches taller than Soul, and had a messy mop of blonde hair. His eyes were crystal blue, and he was slender with long limbs - by all accounts, gangly -and his voice carried incredibly far. He was halfway to them when he shouted out her name. Soul took a few steps to meet him and stuck out his hand.

"Justin? Arlene's told me so much about you." He shook the man's outstretched hand and shot a confused look to his fiance, who kept an easy smile and a smooth voice as she continued the facade.

"He's my cousin - but we were raised together, like brother and sister. He's always looked out for me."

"Oh, thank the Lord! This is fantastic! I'm so glad to meet you, brother!"

"Name's Soul." He grunted out, still in the midst of a strong handshake. Finally, Justin let go and looked over at the woman standing beside Soul.

"Arlene told me her whole family was gone-"

"Oh, honey, my parents are dead but my brother's been deep in the salt mines for weeks. Remember I told you?" It was Soul's nervous laughter that she focused on as he interrupted them, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as he grinned back at Justin.

"Lucky for us all, that's not the case. But, uh, can I ask what's up with this," Soul motioned, one handed, to the church surrounding them, "I've heard of a wedding rehearsal... But a wedding dress rehearsal?" Soul's hand was hot against her shoulder; even through the material of the dress, she could feel it seeping into her skin. She tried to focus on Justin's reply instead of the way Soul's thumb was rubbing circles against her arm.

"The Lord would never part two as in love as us - and if you didn't already notice, Arlene looks absolutely stunning in that dress." She could feel Soul's arm freeze, and a glance to her right confirmed that he was staring at her; his arm slowly slid across her back until his hand found the elbow closest to him and gripped it lightly, not looking at Justin. Instead, he began to lift her arm as he started to inspect her ring. Her eyes were burning into the side of his face, barely blinking. Her hopes were being dashed the longer he stayed here.

"Isn't it bad luck to see the bride in her wedding dress before the ceremony?" Justin leaned forward, and his glance at her ring didn't go unnoticed.

"I like to live life a bit more dangerously." Soul was unable to control the loud, long "HA" that escaped him, and he barely managed to compose himself under the woman's gaze; she wanted to slap him, he could tell without even looking at her.

"Don't I know it!" If Soul had wanted to say anything else -and that look on his face told her that he certainly did- he had lost his opportunity when the Reverend called him over, insisting that he wasn't going to wait around all day. Justin Law sighed and, either forgetting the previous conversation or choosing to ignore it, offered Soul a smile.

"We have to go through practice one more time, would you mind - Oh my goodness. Truly the Lord has blessed us today, for now my lovely bride has someone to give her away!" Before the sentance was even complete, she had stepped forward and was hushing him, a horrified look on her face.

"No, that's ridiculous, Soul hates formal stuff like this - he would much more comfortable sitting with the guests!"

"Really?" His inquisitive glance lingered on his fiance before trailing over to Soul, whose face was ashen.

"That's asking a lot." Soul looked Justin up and down, slowly and deliberately, before his eyes focused on the woman standing across from him. Justin blinked slowly before apologizing, dismissing the idea completely.

"I insist, however, that we all go to dinner tonight in celebration!" Soul's easy grin returned, but she could tell it was hollow.

"Only under the condition that I pay for everything." Justin extended his hand this time, and Soul slowly grasped it as they had reached an understanding. Justin began to tug his fiance back towards the Reverend, who had insisted that he have his vows prepared beforehand; he couldn't just make them up as he went along. She took this time to duck away, and she scurried back to Soul, who was still standing by her side of the church.

"Soul..." Suddenly she didn't know what to say, or what to think; was he really just going to let her walk away? The words she had said to him outside of the church, not even twenty minutes ago, the words she had rehearsed for three solid months, every night in the mirror while imagining him standing in front of her, about to kill her; they were enough? She felt cold as she stuttered.

"You don't owe me a damn thing. If that's the man you want, then go stand by him." She moved before either of them could really register what she had done; her hand cupped his cheek as she leaned forward to kiss him - but unlike before, this was different. It was slow and entirely pure, nothing hidden behind it. As she pulled away, his heart sank as he watched her don the final piece of attire; her veil. Her eyes were shy when they met his gaze.

"Do I look pretty?"

"Of course. Like an angel." This time, when she moved to kiss him, her hand pressed against his chest - she had done this for comfort so many times before, and he could almost enjoy the intimacy of the action - and the kiss was filled with fondness and genuine gratitude. For the last time, she pulled away and she looked into his eyes before gently thanking him. Finally, she turned around and began to waddle back to Justin as he watched, a coldness settling over him as he sat down in the pews. He started to count **. 5**

"Now, Justin, did you get everything straightened out?" She purred, locking their fingers together as she leaned over his shoulder, smiling. He laughed at her and nodded before settling down, as the Reverend was shooting them another dirty look. **4**

He could hear the click of an automatic rifle and he could almost feel himself starting to shake, but he was so well-composed that it surprised him. **3**

"Just to be sure, you've written your vows?" He wasn't able to see her face, but he was sure it was horrified; she was always so careful with paperwork and this event was so big that there was absolutely no chance she wouldn't be ready. **2**

"I have them right here!" She took them out of her bra, which garnered a shocked look from both the Reverend and his crone of a mother, and she thought she could hear footsteps. **1**

As they became louder, she had to stop herself from turning around. The scuff of boots reached her ears and she could feel it bubble up inside of her; fury, terror, and despair. She had really thought he was going to let her live.

As the boots hit the wood of the church steps, it was only a matter of time before someone else noticed them; and the Reverend _did_ notice, rather loudly, as he declared, "What the hell!" As she felt Justin push him behind her as they both turned around, her eyes found Soul's first, and he had no emotion on his face; unlike her, who was scared witless. But he could see the pure rage in her, and he knew he had little to fear this time. But still, even as the guns began to spray and the bullets hit everyone standing around them, his heart twisted as she cried out;

"No, Soul!"

* * *

"Y'know, I don't remember sending you an invitation."

"C'mon, Black*Star..." Soul blew the hair out of his face, lank from the heat of the Nevada desert, when he found himself on the recieving end of a glare from his previous best friend. He knew he was crossing a line simply by showing up - they had last seen each other at the end of one another's blade.

"I appreciate you comin to check up on me, but a big guy like me can't be crowded like that. Why else do you think I live here?" Black*Star gestured to the wide area around him, a furious smile on his face.

"You know exactly why I'm here. Tsubaki's dead."

"I heard from Medusa, oddly enough. Said she was probably next... Did she really cut down 88 bodyguards?"

"No, they only called themselves the Crazy 88. Probably Kid again; but, they all fell to her Rung sword. He made one for her." Black*Star hummed appreciatively before sitting down on his front steps (made of wrought iron and tied together with tape) and opening a beer.

"Kilik Rung," he said, testing the name and finding that it wasn't as cool as it was 20-some years ago, "Didn't he swear a blood oath to never touch steel again?"

"It... Seems like he broke it." Soul's eyes were downcast, and if he was being honest, Black*Star would've broken his blood oath, too; just to get back at the bastard in front of him.

Black*Star had went into business with his best buddy and bro years ago - when he introduced Soul to the woman they would come to fear as Scythemeister and respect as a partner, they were on the rocks. When Soul sent Tsubaki, his partner and his rival, overseas to run the yakuza, he had cleaned his hands of his friend and their previous business relationship. He may have been raised a money hungry assassin, but the fact still stood that Soul had betrayed him on a personal level and he was petty enough to not want to hear another word from his mouth.

"Helluva grudge... Or maybe you just tend bring that out in people." Soul could neither agree or deny what his friend was saying - Soul may have been cool and collected, but he was vengeful and irrational when it mattered the most. Over 20 years ago, it got the best of Kilik Rung - and four years ago, it got the best of the woman he loved.

"For real though... Did you happen to, uh, keep up on your swordplay?"

"Katanas are for sissies and clans, and I am neither! I fight with my heart and soul, and I'm confident that I could take down your protegee quicker than you could say my name." He let out a hard laugh and took another swig of his beer before squinting up at Soul; the sun was right behind him now.

"Cut the shit, Black*Star. You're still mad that I took your precious Tsubaki away," he had to duck to avoid the fist that would've probably ended his life, "But you need to stop being mad at me, and start becoming afraid of -. Because she is coming, and she's coming to kill you. And unless you let me help you, I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that she will decimate you." Black*Star didn't reply immediately; instead, he took one more sip of his beer before staring at the patch of sandy soil that Soul was occupying, thinking over what he had said.

He could certainly kill her. He was stronger than her, had more experience, and he knew the way she fought. He was a trained killer, unlike her; and he had the strong advantage of knowing where exactly she would be. But she knew him better than she knew Soul - they had grown up together, fought together, played together. And he struck her down at the behest of his best friend, and he thought himself righteous the first few months afterwards.

"Soul." He looked up and met his old friend's red eyes, which were alarmed by the use of his name in such a way; Black*Star almost sounded tired, like he had been awake for a thousand years.

"I don't dodge guilt. I don't cop out of paying my come-uppance." His eyes narrowed as he thought of Tsubaki; how she must have died, all alone - her corpse left to rot, like her parents. He had accepted responsibility for that girl, and the time that she had needed him most, Soul sent her away. He should never have let her live; maybe he would feel less guilty that way.

"Can't we... forget the past?"

"That woman deserves her revenge, and we deserve to die." His eyes were determined, his mouth set in a thin line as they continued to stare at each other; until Black*Star started chuckling, his shoulders shaking and his beer swirling in the bottle.

"But, then again, so does she. So I guess we'll see, won't we?"


	8. Chapter 7: The Lonely Grave

i am really excited for this chapter - the entire first part will be a hunt; i'm a sucker for suspense, and i thought that it would be fun to just throw it in on top of what's to come!

* * *

 **Chapter 7: The Lonely Grave of Paula Schultz**

Chugging down the last of his beer, Black*Star tossed a look at the clock hanging on his wall - it was around 4PM, and he knew he had to get moving soon. He didn't have long before she would show up; and unlike most things, he took her very seriously.

Soul seemed to underestimate her, even with his staunch warning; to think that someone could actually kill her, that was something he could get a good laugh out of. Black*Star continued to chuckle as he popped two pieces of gum in his mouth, chewing as he continued to think of how this would play out.

Ideally, they would both walk out of this and kill Soul together. Worst case scenario, they both died. He knew he didn't have the balls to kill his friend -however loose the term was now- solo, but he had no intentions of letting her kill him and steal all the glory right out from under Black*Star's dead body. He reached into his mouth and ripped a bit of gum off and stuck it to the back of the note after reading it over. He kicked the front door open and laughed loudly; he knew she was here, he knew she was watching him right now. He slapped the note on the little window and walked to his car leisurely, chuckling to himself the whole way.

He didn't really have much to settle - he had no real job, a junk-heap house, and a few associates who surely wouldn't miss him much. He just didn't want her to come before he expected her to - his whole plan hinged on her being unpredictable, but the way he had worded his note made it seem almost as though he really did have something to finish before meeting up with her here.

Black*Star loved a good fight, and never passed up the chance for one. Anger welled inside of him as he thought of Tsubaki, _his_ protogee, _his_ ultimate battle, and how she had been taken by him. She was strong, and she had the potential to just keep getting stronger, if she had the right teacher - but Soul had sent her away before they had completed their training. Maybe that would've made a difference; maybe he wouldn't be tagging a dilapidated building in the middle of a ruined town if he had stood up to Soul the one time it had counted.

Instead, though, he wrote over the elegant scrawl of her name with his own in huge, black letters; they had tagged almost all of the buildings here as kids, and he was determined to ignite that petty anger of hers - it was much easier to deal with than her legitimate, terrifying rage.

After at least two hours, he had tagged every single building except for the menacing school that loomed over Death City, the abandoned utopia that they had met in when she was just a child - as a teenager, he found himself staying here through an orphanage. They spent ten years together, running to the dry riverbed that his ramshackle house now lay, tagging random buildings, beating up bullies; it was also when he taught her how to fight, how to use a weapon. He taught her how to be a killer, and she taught him how to be a child. He misses those days. He misses his best friend; _Maka_ , not Soul.

He was climbing the steps to the Academy when he heard a deafening roar. She was here, and she was pissed.

* * *

The next person on her list would no doubt know she was heading for him next. She had made sure of that; even if Soul had hurt him, she knew that he would go running to his best friend - either for help to to warn him, she wasn't sure.

It hadn't been easy to find a way to him - he was in the middle of the desert for starters, no one drove this way, and it was even hotter here than it was in Texas. But she had trekked on, never once wavering in her one goal: to find the house that Liz had described. (It's worth noting that Liz had screamed it at her, because she had been starting to saw off her other arm.)

It really wasn't a house, she thought as she climbed up a large sand dune; she was looking at the wreck of a trailer that had dug itself snugly into the cracked, ancient riverbed that sat here. She remembered playing in it when she was younger; Black*Star had been the one to show it to her. There was a picnic table, a small onning, and some strange attempt of a stoop - her inspection haulted as she watched the front door swing open.

Maka hit the ground, no doubt catching his eye - but he didn't pause as he laughed loudly at his own joke before going down his steps, walking to his car, and leaving completely. It had been the quickest two minutes of her life, no doubt - but she would never pass this up. She slowly began to crawl down the dune, in case he _had_ noticed her and decided to lure her into a trap. But even as she crawled up to the iron and tape he called a front stoop, he hadn't returned.

There was a crude note left on the front door, with his signature on the front in black marker. It made the words inside harder to read, but she gathered the information she needed before crumpling it and dropping to the ground. Letting out a frustrated yell, she turned around, angrier than when she had arrived.

hey Maka, so, you're finally on your way to kick my ass? took you long enough. look, i've got shit to do so i'm gonna go do it - meet me back home. i'll give you one day to find me there. if you manage to fail, which you definitely will because i'm the better man here, i'll bury you.

It took her four hours to walk to the destination implied; if he was already there or not was part of her test. She knew this was a test, she knew that he had meant it as such, and she knew that he would not be disappointed when she found him. She would give him the fight he was looking for.

But now, as she walked up to the first building on the outskirts of Death City, she found herself running to it. What was that? She had tagged this building years ago, a lifetime ago; and she saw her tag, and she saw that it was covered by the star of Black*Star's signature. The rage she felt prior to now was nothing - she opened her mouth and a terrible scream came from her, filling the air. She knew he had heard it - she was sure he was here now.

Maka looked around wildly, the setting sun cast shadows she couldn't trust. Focusing her energy inwards, she closed her eyes and let everything around her fall away. She waited for what seemed like forever before the small lights began to appear, the glowing souls of everything living around her. Bugs and cats, bats and birds. It was hard for her to find him among all the little lights, but there he was -in the middle of town, of course- and his soul was huge. It was bright gold, stark against the blues and whites of everything else. She opened her eyes and tried desperately to remember the layout of the town around her.

She looked for another building with her tag on it - it was hard to distinguish which building had her signature on it anymore, because it was dark and he had gone to great lengths to cover them with his own. That petty bastard, she thought to herself bitterly. She was going to beat his ass when she found him.

Making her way from one building to the next, she hit more dead-ends than she should've. It was cold, she was tired and frustrated, and she just wanted to get out of this place; Death City brought up so many memories for her, for both of them.

She paused in her stride and took a step back, kneeling down and gently pulling the string in front of her that lined the walkway. Debris from the rutty buildings fell where she was supposed to be standing, and Maka couldn't stop the sigh from escaping her. Of course he set traps all over town, in places the light couldn't reach. **Assassin's rule number one: silence. Dissolve in the darkness and erase your breath. Wait for an opening to attack your target.**

Barely managing to dodge a very long, and very sharp nail that had shot from seemingly nowhere, she felt another one brush by her leg. He was watching her right now. She couldn't try and focus to find him, or he would nail her to the wall. Thinking quickly, she scurried up the pile of debris to the other side, where he hopefully couldn't see her.

Black*Star cursed in his perch - there was a trap set behind where she was, and he had laid it while she was busy inspecting his trap. He had hoped it would've caught her; but she rarely did what he expected her to, as he watched her leap between broken beams and shingles to escape his onslaught. He took a deep breath and gathered himself; it wouldn't do for him to lose his cool now, when he was so close to her.

Other than suffering a few scrapes, Maka was relatively uninjured - but she knew he would be on her trail again soon. She had been working on moving some of the shit that had fallen, trying to make a small niche for herself. She needed to get a lock on him again, she needed to take time and plan before she ran into this fight. Black*Star was one of the only members she wasn't sure she could defeat; maybe it was her nerves, maybe it was because she knew of his monstrous strength.

Maka settled herself into the small alcove of dust and wood and shingles; closing her eyes, she easily located her prey. He was in a building behind her, moving downwards; he was coming to pursue her. She decided against moving, knowing that he would assume she had left the area completely.

 **Assassin's rule number two: transpositional thinking. Analyze the target in order to predict her thoughts and movements.**

Instead, the bright aura disappeared. Maka's eyes shot open and she looked into the green eyes of her opponent.

 **BLACK*STAR**

 **member**  
 **DEADLY MEISTERS AND WEAPONS SQUAD**

 **codename**  
 **NINJA ASSASSIN**

His fingers laced through her hair and ripped her from her hiding spot before she could react. She thrashed and screamed, trying to shake him lose - and for a minute, she _was_ lose-

But his fist came in contact with her head. Maka's entire body felt the blow, and her eyes couldn't really register him grabbing her by the throat and throwing her a few feet away. She tried to blink the bleary, unclear lenses from her eyes to no avail. Her hand was on her sword, trying to fight back; she cut him on his leg and his arm, and in his ire he kicked the weapon from her hands. He reached down and grabbed her by her shirt, with both hands, and slammed her against the wall; it cracked, and she was seeing stars again. She cried out in pain, angry and embarassed that it was going so badly for her.

So she then proceeded to spit in his face. Defiance filled her eyes as she watched her blood drip down him. He headbutted her -

 **Assassin's rule number three: speed. Take out the target before he notices your presence.**

Only for the Maka in his hands to disappear, and for her sword to be stuck through his arm. He managed a laugh before backhanding her into unconsciousness. As he began to pull out the sword, he heard his cell phone ring and cursed - had he really left it on? He answered it, and was surprised when he heard Blair's voice on the other end.

"Did ya kill her?"

"Not yet; I could probably kill her with my pinky finger right now if I wanted, she's not getting up anytime soon."

"Well, in that case, I'm sure you have your paws on that sword of hers!" Black*Star rolled his eyes and eyed the weapon - emblazoned with the trademark skull of Kilik Rung.

"And if I do?"

"I'd be willing to part with a rather hefty sum in exchange for that sword. And by hefty, I do mean in excess of one million." Black*Star whistled on the other end of the phone.

"Terms?"

"I only have time to do it tomorrow, and in cash. Also, and this is really the important part - _she must suffer to her last breath._ " Blair hissed into her cell.

"I can guarentee it."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Millionaire."

* * *

When she woke up, it was to more darkness. She wasn't sure if she couldn't see, or if it was just really dark, but Maka knew she was bound around her hands and ankles. She had been bound for a while, too - her appendages felt raw. Somewhere in the distance, she could faintly hear footsteps, and the scraping of metal on dirt. Her head was killing her; the back hatch of the truck was opened roughly, and she jerked her head up to look into the light. Her eyes were working again, but she didn't like the picture they painted for her; a knot settled in her stomach as she laid eyes on Black*Star.

"Let's go!" His hands were around her shoulders again as he tore her from the bed of the truck, letting her drop to the ground with a loud grunt. He began to drag her by her feet, and he pointedly stared at the grave being dug up not even ten feet away. The casket was out, and a pine box lay close by. Her heart sank into her ass as a cold feeling settled over Maka.

"You really meant you were gonna bury me?" She muttered to him, and he almost laughed; but he saw the fury in her eyes, the quiet betrayal that haunted him day and night now for four fucking years.

"Y'know Maka, I gotta say, I'm gonna miss you! You were the greatest follower a God like me could ever have. But I kicked your ass, and because you killed Tsubaki but failed against me, I'm gonna put you in that fucking ground." His voice went from peppy to insanely cold in just two sentences. She knew the minute she heard the last drop of blood hit the ground, that she regretted killing Tsubaki and probably would for the rest of her life. Her second thought was that Black*Star would resent her for the rest of eternity. She wasn't sure what bothered her more.

"So you, who hated Soul more than any of us, decided to kill me because he asked you to? You killed my baby because he got jealous and asked you to do him a favor?" He didn't answer her question, only walked away to check on the progress of the hole. He helped the other man out of the 7-foot hole, both of them walking back towards her. They looked down at her, mumbling to each other.

"She looks fuckin furious man."

"If you got the ass beating she just did, you would be pissed too. Get her feet, I'll get her head." They circled her and began to lean down, but Maka thrashed and struggled until Black*Star was pushing something near her face. She stilled instantly when she recognized it - it wasn't ordinary mace, it was bear mace. She would not only be blinded, but it would burn the flesh it came in contact with.

"You know what this is; it's bear mace, for those damn coyotes that always get into my house. You're goin in that ground tonight, no if, ands, or buts. I was gonna bury you with this," he reached behind him to pull out a flashlight, winking at her as her eyes widened at the implication.

"But if yer gonna act like a horse's ass, then I'll spray this whole goddamn can right into yer eyeballs. Burn 'em right outta yer head. Then you'll be blind, and burnin, _and buried alive._ Now what'll it be?" He held both of them up and stared into her eyes for the first time. He saw her grief, despair, and pure fury. But in the end her despair won, and she nodded towards the flashlight. He handed it to her and lifted her up, carrying her to the pine box and dropping her in. They stared at one another for a while as he held the lid of the coffin.

"This is for killin my girl." His voice was gravelly and she made no show of emotion as the lid covered her and the loud pounding of nails began. One by one, twenty-six nails in the coffin, and it felt like a true eternity. As the last one was driven in, she gave into her hysterics and began to hyperventilate. The coffin was pushed towards the hole, and slowly it was pushed in. She felt the full force of falling seven feet and groaned, but her fear came back with the sounds of dirt hitting the coffin lid.

Her breathing was heavy as she was panicking - she couldn't escape this. Her tears wouldn't stop, her frustration and the hopelessness of it all enveloping her as she began to beat against the wood with her flashlight. Once it went out, she managed to fix it only for her anger to consume her as she beat against the lid a few more times, screaming angrily. After a long while, silence enveloped her; she could even hear the truck drive away. Devoid of energy from the entire ordeal, she simply clicked off the flashlight and sat with her thoughts.

* * *

a/n: i'd like to say that they all met through the dwma. then they made a squad. i think it could work. ALSO, important: when B* refers to Tsubaki as 'my girl' i mean that like... his friend, his sister, his daughter, someone who he wanted to protect fiercely, until she could be strong enough to stand on her own. not as his girlfriend/lover. and uh, black*star and Soul are 10+ years older than maka and tsubaki in this.


	9. Chapter 8: Cruel Tutelage of Excalibur

this is the chapter i've been dying to write this entire time. excalibur is black*star's master and he refuses to let his best friend be trained by soul's lame ass sensei so this chapter is gonna be weird, good, and have black*star AND SOUL

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: The Cruel Tutelage of Excalibur**

Soul continued to play the slow, mournful tune on his violin, his eyes closed in concentration. Maka and Black*Star sat across from each other, the fire between them casting shadows on each others face as they both listened to him play. As his song came to a close, he looked at both of them for feedback.

"Soul, bro, never play that shit again. It's _depressing_ , man! We're seeing her off, not tryna kill her."

"What the hell! I just wanted to know if I had gotten better-"

"No, you haven't gotten better at that verse because you were perfect the last twenty times you played it for us. Jesus, dude, let it go. I'm trying to tell Maka a story." Soul put his violin away but still reached out to cuff Black*Star on the back of his head, only for his friend to dodge and glare at him. Soul leaned back and motioned for him to continue, not moving when Maka leaned against him.

"Once upon a time in China, some speculate around 1883, the head priest of the White Lotus Clan, Excalibur, was walking down a road, thinking about whatever intensive things that a man of such regality and power would think of -I can say, they are great thoughts- when a Shaolin monk appeared heading in the opposite direction. As the monk and priest crossed paths, Excalibur, in an unfathomable display of generosity, gave the monk the slightest of nods... The nod was not returned." A piece of wood fell in the fire, causing embers and ashes to billow upwards, adding an ominous tone to his last sentence. He took a bite of his food before continuing with the tale.

"Now, was it the intention of the monk to insult Excalibur, or did he just not see the nod? No one will ever really know - but what we do know, are the consequences!" He waggled his fingers as Maka whispered to Soul that he was starting to get corny; he couldn't help but agree, rather loudly, that this story had to be bullshit.

"The next morning, Excalibur appeared at the Shaolin temple and demanded the temple's head abbot offer him his neck to repay the insult. The abbot, at first, tried to console Excalibur, only to find he was inconsolable..." He then grimaced, either at the thought of Excalibur's wrath or his strength, neither of them could quite tell.

"So began the massacre of the Shaolin temple and all sixty monks inside, at the fists of the White Lotus. And so began the legend of Excalibur's five-point-palm exploding-heart technique, among others."

"And what, pray tell, is the five-point-palm-exploding-heart technique?" It was Soul who piped up, sounding smug and absolutely irksome to Black*Star. Still, he answered.

"Quite simply, the deadliest blow in all of martial arts. He hits you with his fingertips, at 5 different pressure points in the body and lets you just... walk away. But after five steps, you fall down dead! Your heart explodes."

"Did he teach you that?" Black*Star paused for a minute, not sure how to answer her question.

"He doesn't teach anyone that technique. Now, this is the important part. Whatever he tells you to do, do it. It'll be ludicrous stuff, but you gotta do it. If you, for even a millisecond, flash him a defiant eye -and I know you've perfected it- he will straight up pluck it out. I've seen him do it, and he taught _me_ how to do it." He demonstrated a bit by flicking his wrist towards the fire, and a moment later one of the burning bits of wood was beside him.

"Oh, and if you try to sass him, he'll break you in three different places... And that, will be the story of you." Maka could feel the chill of his words, and they didn't leave her as she slept. The next morning, after a very long drive to somewhere she wasn't sure of, Black*Star left them at the bottom on a long flight of stairs. He left them there for three hours.

When he came back, he had two cuts on his face and he was out of breath. "He said he'll take you on, hell yeah." The last part of his sentence was said weakly; after stretching his hand out for a high-five, he tenderly held his ribs in regret of the action.

"Why did he accept me?"

"Hell if I know, he's still just as weird as I remember." There was that strange grimace again. Black*Star grabbed her bags for her and handed them to her, motioning to the steps as he did so.

"Jesus, I still feel every one of those steps just looking at them. You're gonna have a hum-dinger of a time carrying shit up and down those fuckers." He got in the car, Soul joining him as well. She looked at them, unsure.

"When will I see you again?" It was mostly aimed at Soul, but she hoped Black*Star would give her more of an answer than just the shrug of his shoulders. But that's what she got.

"And remember, Maka. No bullshit. Trust me on that one. Do whatever he says and don't question him or his rules." He started the car up and they both smiled at her before they drove away. She began to ascend the stairs, adjusting her bags as she went. They reminded her of the Academy stairs in Death City, almost endless. When she finally reached the top, she saw her new sensei meditating in a small courtyard.

He was small, maybe four feet tall, and clad in all white. He hadn't made mention of her presence yet, so she knelt down before him and let herself be known, calling his name out quietly. He opened his eyes and bashed her head with his cane before speaking.

"You bray like an ass. Do not speak to me unless spoken to, understand? That's rule number 433. You aren't here to talk, you're here to learn the mysteries of Kung Fu! I shall treat you as my hound from now on, and will speak to you as such. When I yell, when I point, when I beat you with my cane!" He pointedly hit her in the head again; she dared not move, remembering Black*Star's words.

"What training have you?"

"I'm proficient in Tiger Crane style, and I am more than proficient in scythe-wielding - my samurai sword arts could use work."

He shouted fool loud enough for it to echo before laughing loudly and critisizing her small and weak arsenal. Her face heated up in anger and embarassment; she clenched her fists and took it.

"Your anger, it's amusing. Do you believe yourself to be my equal?" She shook her head, negative.

"Are you aware that I kill at my own discretion?" Her head bobbed up and down, yes.

"Is it your wish to die?" She immediately responded no, and he laughed at her again.

"Then you must be an imbicile, a complete and utter moron. Stand, let me see the face of the supreme fool." Maka angrily rose to her foot and stood stiff as a board.

"So, my pathetic hound, is there anything you can do well? What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" He shooed her towards the rack and she hastily made her way over, dropping her bags with little care. Her eyes roved the weapons and waited for his affirmation before reaching out and grabbing a scythe.

He finally rose, taking his time to make his way down the small steps to join her on the main walk. "Let's see how good you really are. If you land a single blow on me, I will rescind my original judgement of supreme fool." She lashed out at him, quick and clean, wide arcs that engulfed him - but he dodged by barely an inch every single time, left or right, as she continued through the motions of a sparring match.

She brought her blade down, only for it to come in contact with the stone path they had been fighting on. She looked up and was stunned to see him standing atop her blade, not looking the least bit perturbed.

"From here, you may get an excellent view of my foot!" He kicked her square in the face, stunning her further and pushing her back with a hearty laugh. She couldn't see straight and she was trying not to cry from the intense pain of her hurt nose.

"You're barely an amatuer with that thing, you fool!" She spun the scythe around her, a flashy move that took her years to perfect, before striking at him again. He hit the flat part of her blade with the palm of his hand, knocking it upwards. Her momentum carried her foreward and he continued his assault by knocking her arm away, losening her grip on the scythe; Excalibur took her weapon and punched her square in the gut, pushing her back a few feet into a tree.

His hearty chuckle and his critique of another of her skills was trying her patience. "I asked you to demonstrate what you knew, and you did - not a damn thing! Now, let's see your Tiger Crane match my Eagle's Claw." She angrily pushed her self from the tree and shook the debris from her hair before circling him and getting into her familiar stance. Though Excalibur only used one hand, she used both to attack him high and low - he dodged, parried, and blocked every move until he knocked her onto her back.

She leapt back up, and in her fury, she grabbed a rock that was on the ground - she needed an edge on him. Excalibur predicted this, and grabbed her arm; twisting it behind her back, he took the rock from her incapacitated hand and threw it away. He asked her if it hurt, and she cried out before nodding.

"If I pleased, I could chop off your arm-"

"No! Please, don't!" He only laughed at her pitiful plea, twisting her arm a little more to make her feel the pain.

"Well, it's my arm now. I claim it to use as I please - if you can stop me, I suggest you try."

It killed her to admit it out loud, but she said the words he wanted to hear - "I can't." He demanded more from her, asking if she felt completely helpless while twisting her arm, and she nodded as her words escaped her.

"Have you ever felt this before?"

"No!"

"Compared to me, you're as helpless as a worm fighting an eagle?" She nodded more frantically now, almost on the verge of throwing up from the pain. He held on to her for another moment before releasing her roughly.

"THIS IS THE BEGINNING, FOOL!" She fell back onto the ground, clutching her arm tightly to her chest. She heard him ask if she wanted power - a power like his. And she could only whisper yes, as her voice was strained still. Maka watched as he walked away.

She had to find her quarters on her own and deposit her things, and she slept for the rest of the day. He woke her early - demanding that she be ready in fifteen minutes and be alert. When she arrived to where he had told her tom meet, he was standing in front of a mounted board.

"Good morning, student!"

"Good morning, sensei." He tsked her and asked her to say it again, with more pep; she complied without complaint.

"A refreshing morning begins with a refreshing greeting! Rule number 512. Every morning be happy and ready for training." Maka nodded before asking him what the board was for; in reply, he turned around and punched a hole clean through it. He looked at her and asked evenly if she could do it.

"I can, but not that close." He smacked her on the head with his cane, calling her the queen of fools.

"Then you can't do it, you simpleton! What if your enemy is three inches in front of you... What do you do then? Curl into a ball and weep, or do you put your fist through him!" He accentuated his sentence by putting his fist through another part of the board. He demanded that she get started.

Maka punched that board about five times at half strength before cutting back more and more; it was futile, as by the end of the first hour her knuckles were swollen and bloody. By the end of the second hour her hands were almost numb, and she took a moment to nurse her shaking appendages before she heard Excalibur's haughty laugh. "The wood should fear your hand - not the other way around! No wonder you can't do this, you decided you've been beaten even before you've begun!" He marched away and she felt her frustration take over as she began punching the board again.

It went on like that for days. Weeks, even. He never backed off, he never let her sleep in or take a moment to relax. He had her marching up and down the steps of the temple grounds, carrying pails of water, carrying his laundry to be washed at the bottom and hung at the top, carrying him when he wanted to take a tour of the grounds. He had her run through katas all day - forms from Tiger Crane, from Eagle Claw. He was determined to stop her from being sloppy and making too many extra moves.

Excalibur had her punching that damn board morning, noon, and night. He would tap his cane to a rhythm, and she would mimic it - if she missed a beat, he would throw a rock at her if he didn't want to move to hit her himself. Sometimes, she would punch the wall beside her while she slept, on accident.

If he didn't watch her punch the board, she would do high attacks while hitting the board with them. But after seven months of constant training, her hands had shown wear. One night at dinner, she had discarded her chopsticks and began eating with her hands. He threw her rice on the floor and gave her a sour look.

"If you want to eat like a dog, you can live and sleep outside like a dog. If not, pick up those sticks." He pushed his own bowl towards her and sipped on a cup of tea; her hands shook violently, whether from the cold or the pain he wasn't sure - but finally, she shoveled a chunk of rice into her mouth after many futile attempts. She wouldn't be stopped here.

* * *

Maka turned the flashlight back on and looked around the coffin for weaknesses, slowly roving the light from corner to corner. She began to shimmy out of her boots, hoping the belt around her legs wasn't too tight. When they finally popped off, she began to kick them up towards her knees, and she managed to grab them with her fingertips. Maka pulled out her straight razor and began to saw at the rope around her hands.

The light was bad, and she was scared of cutting herself - after several adjustments, she finally managed to make solid headway into cutting her bonds. She cursed and bit her lips until she finally felt them break and loosen. Maka felt a few tears rise to her eyes but settled for kissing the blade instead, discarding the rope and tucking the blade into her back pocket. She reached up and knocked on the pine lid, finding a hollow spot where the dirt hadn't quite settled yet. Taking a deep breath, she positioned herself a bit better before whispering words that would never leave her grave.

"Okay, Excalibur... Here I come." Her fingertips aligned with the wood and turned into a fist; she continued her steady onslaught, leaving bits of blood and flesh behind as she desperately punched - and the wood creaked and groaned against her fist; little bits of dirt began to fall on her as she punched a hole in the wood, it finally yielding to her fist.

She clawed and dug her way up, never stopping, not grabbing the flashlight as it fell or the boots. Instead she sucked in a deep breath when the sudden brightness of the night hit her. She managed to crawl out of the depression from where she had dug herself out, taking a moment to rest on the dirt and gasping for breath. She actually managed to escape. She was overwhelmed with some feeling she couldn't describe, and it was enough to get her on her feet and heading for a diner. First thing on her list was water. Second, was getting her hands around Black*Star's throat.


	10. Chapter 9: BLAIR and I

**Chapter 9: BLAIR and I**

Black*Star could hear the roar of an engine and squealing tires - he could only assume Blair was getting close. She was probably good for her word, but he never really trusted her or Medusa to begin with - they were women who knew how to twist the truth, and he wasn't very good at picking apart the lies they spun in with bits of truth.

It had mildly surprised him when Blair had called, asking to meet up so she could confirm Maka's death and buy her fresh-wrought Rung sword. Maybe with the money, he could finally get the hell out of this dead riverbed, and he could start plotting his own revenge.

It seemed too soon, but Blair was pulling up - he heard her door open and shut, and he could only assume she was going around the back to get his cash. He opened his front door and watched her bring out a suitcase, waving animatedly at him. She had opted for her normal pants-suit, this matter being strictly business. He stepped back to allow her to enter his home, going into his kitchen while grabbing a beer. He opened it and offered her a sip, and she accepted; he took the bottle back from her and took a long swig of his own before setting it down.

"So, how'd you do it?"

"Well, you know we grew up together in that weird utopia called Death City? In Death City, the mobsters used to dig up graves, put whoever did them wrong seven feet down, put the original grave's occupant on top of them, then you bury 'em. I figured she would appreciate the sentiment of home, and I'm such a big guy that I gave her one small favor in the end." He hadn't actually put Paula Schultz back in the dirt like he should've - but Blair didn't need to know.

"So that's a Death City funeral?" Black*Star started tossing ice chips into the blender, intent on making them margaritas to celebrate. He nodded and smiled back at her, and she giggled.

"Honestly, how barbaric. What's the name of the grave she's stuck in?"

"Paula," he tossed a cube, "Schultz." He tossed another cube and listened to Blair's pen scratch against the paper. Her eyes flickered up to check out the Rung sword positioned a few feet away, by his arm chair.

"Mind if I check the goods, hon?" He wiped the sweat on his brow and nodded - it was starting to get hot in here.

"If my money's in that bag, then that sword's all yers!" He turned on the blender after adding mix and alcohol, not quite hearing what she said as she unsheathed the sword. He turned it off and shouted to her, asking her to repeat herself.

" _I said_ , so this is a Rung sword. Soul tells me you used to have one, yourself? How does this one compare to that?" He was pouring the mixture into two mason jars, not paying much mind to her.

"If yer gonna compare a Rung sword, you compare it to every other sword that was, or was not made, by Kilik Rung." He walked into the small living room and grabbed the suitcase while handing her the glass. He was sweating heavier, and he wondered if it was just him.

"Hey, Black*Star, I have a question for you."

"I'm ready for it, Blair."

"You've fought your enemy and won, and Tsubaki is gone as well. What 'R' are you filled with? Relief, or regret?"

"A little of both, actually."

"No, that's not what I asked. I asked which one you felt, the one that came to the surface the minute I asked you my question." He was beginning to open the bag now, wiping more sweat from his face as he did so. He wasn't sure what she was playing at - he knew she had poisoned him, and he knew he could fight it off for just a little while longer. He leaned away from the bag to look at her, but she betrayed nothing; Blair was almost as unreadable as himself.

He stood up and walked back towards the counter, grabbing his own drink and taking a sip. He was burning up inside. "My dad always used to tell me that stars don't have regrets; we make our own way, and we'll do whatever it takes to get what we want." He swished it around in the glass before chucking it straight at her face. She swatted it away, standing up a moment later -

Only to feel the hard, intrusive poke of Black*Star's finger against her chest, then in another spot; he moved his hand in rapid succession, hitting several important points around the muscle of her heart. Blair coughed hard and pushed him away just as the last blow landed; she carefully sat back down and poised the blade at him, but it was done. It was all over.

His heartbeat sped up and he started to pant; wiping his face again, he noticed blood coming from his nose. Black*Star shuddered and groaned before falling to one knee, trying to calm down and think - but his thoughts were muddled, and he could barely hear her talking.

"Sorry, I've never used this lipgloss before! It's mixed with some cocktail of snake venom; gives it a real nice shine. It was rude of me not to wipe the lip of the bottle before passing it back to you." She wiped her lips off again, getting the last bit of residue off. She pulled a necklace out from between her breasts and shoved the small container in his face.

"This is the only antivenom, and it's just enough for one." She sipped it down quickly, just as blood started rolling down her nostril. His body was starting to go cold, and he groaned again.

"Just so we're clear, Blair, you're a fucking bitch; but I still feel relieved because _no one_ is coming to save you, you'll die here with me."

"Oh, spare me sweetie. Soul may have taken Tsubaki from you, but Maka took Soul from _me_! So, now that you've killed my arch-rival, I've gotta kill you. I don't know how you killed her; she was a better warrior than you ever were." Blair stared coldly at his body as his breathing became labored.

"Maka... May be... a total punk... but I taught... that punk... And I know... That she won't... Let either of you... Get away." He struggled hard to say his words, and after another few minutes, Blair saw the last of his breath escape his body. She then began to seal up the bag again, a wicked grin on her face. Her cellphone began to ring and she answered it with sadness in her voice.

"Soul, honey, I've got some bad news... Black*Star's dead. I'm so sorry, she put a mamba in his camper. I got her, don't worry, she's dead. If you ever start feeling sentimental, head down to Huntington Cemetery and lay some flowers down at Paula Schultz's grave - you will be standing on the final resting place of Maka Albarn."

She had shouldered the bag and was sipping up the last of her drink as she began to imagine how much Maka screamed and begged before dying of suffocation where no one would find her.

"Do you want me to come by? I can be there if five hours. I'll be there, don't you worry. I'm on my way. Buh-bye!" She clicked her phone shut and pocketed it, getting down in the prone position and crawling over his disgusting floor. Getting on her knees, Blair flung the front door open -

Only to be pushed back by the flying kick Maka had delievered to her chest; she tried to draw the sword in retaliation. Maka was too fast for her, and shoved the sword back in its sheath while punching her square in the jaw. Blair turned the blunt end of the scabbard around and hit Maka in her head, making her recoil and step back towards the door.

Blair made no attempt to pursue, but Maka still brought her foot up and kicked her in the stomach - she got to her feet and engaged Maka in a flurry of punches, only for them to all be blocked or knocked away until she used the sword as a staff again. Her opponent stepped back and grabbed one of the tv antennae, swatting Blair and carving deep lines into her face. Shrieking in absolute rage, Blair kicked Maka in her shins and grabbed her shoulders, headbutting her in the face.

As they stepped away from each other, they raised their legs and kicked one another in the stomach, landing them on opposite sides of the living room. Blair stood and got into a stance before jumping and going into a flying kick. Maka managed to grab her mid-flight and throw her through the wall, into the bathroom. She jumped on top of Blair and began to choke her, taking several elbows in the gut before rolling them both onto their stomachs. Blair began to stand, but Maka pushed her towards the toilet and began to drown her in the water.

Her vision was starting to go black, but she reached up and pulled the handle, making the water leave the bowl and giving her air. Maka slapped her hand away, and Blair retaliated by elbowing Maka in the crotch, sending her back. She flipped her wet hair out of her face and gasped for breath, disgusted and pissed that Maka had actually put her head in a fucking toilet.

She tried to escape through the hole in the wall, but her opponent dragged her back in and threw her into the hall. Blair backed up a bit and waited for Maka to exit the bathroom, unleashing a perfect high kick and sending her tumbling down the hallway. Blair crawled back to the livingroom, her anger finally reaching its boiling point as she grabbed the sword; she headed back to the hall, only to see Maka at the other end wielding a second Kilik Rung sword.

"What's that?"

"Black*Star's Rung."

"I thought he got rid of it?"

"Black*Star would never, in a thousand years, pawn a weapon. Not even one Soul got him." They stared each other down, fury in their eyes and malice in their hearts as the silence began to close around them. Maka called out her name, and Blair responded with the same sugary tone.

"Somethin I've always been curious about... Just 'tween us girls. What _did_ you say to Excalibur to make him snatch out your eye?"

"I called him a miserable, old fool." Maka inhaled sharply and made a face of pain; to turn their sensei's words against him would invoke a harsh punishment, and it made sense now.

"Know what I did? _I killed that miserable old fool_!" Maka's expression reflected pure surprise and actual grief. She never knew he had died - and to die at Blair's hands?

"I poisoned his fish heads. I told him, to me, the word of an old fool like you is worth _less than nothing_." Blair began to laugh loud and hard at the memory, as Maka allowed her shock to fuel the rage inside of her.

"I killed your master, and now I'm gonna kill you _with your own sword_ \- which, in the very immediate future, will become my sword."

" _Bitch, you don't have a future_." Maka roared as they both got into their stances and charged each other -

But Blair only made it four steps down the hallway before crying out and collapsing to her knees; when she looked up towards her opponent, their swords connected and they were at a stalemate in terms of power and prowess. They stayed locked in their duel for what seemed to be hours - until Maka ended it by reaching out and plucking Blair's only eye out. The other woman immediately lost all of her cool and control, screaming and standing up again, trying to claw Maka to pieces, only to use her final step. Her heart exploded inside of her chest and without so much as a sound, Blair fell to the ground dead. Maka could only assume that Black*Star had done her one final favor in the fight against Soul. Blair couldn't even see Maka drop her eye to the ground and squish it between her toes, and she couldn't watch as her eternal foe left the trailer for her final destination.

* * *

 _Nakatsukasa(x)_

 _Gorgon(x)_

 _*Star(x)_

 _(x)_

 **Eater**


	11. Last Chapter: Face to Face

**Last Chapter: Face to Face**

When she had pumped Liz for info on the Deadly Weapons and Meisters, the only person whose location she swore she didn't know was Soul. After pressuring her captive to give her the next best thing, Maka found herself heading towards the East Coast - specifically, New York.

 _'The lone familial tie that Soul had kept through the years was his older brother, Wes Evans. He was a well-renowned violinist, often travelling with his brother when he could; he had been drafted into a Broadway play, and was in town for the next few weeks. It would be this gentleman of leisure that could point me in Soul's direction.'_

She had tracked him down and waited for an opportune time to approach him, which came in the form of a huge rainstorm. She had been waiting it out in a small cafe, when Wes himself strolled through the door and sat down across from her. The barista had his drink ready in minutes, and he was sipping it expectantly.

"You've been following me recently; I figured I should ask why, and this seemed as good a time as any. Though, I certainly don't mind being followed if its you." He winked at her before setting his cup down and folding his hands neatly on the table. She took a gulp of her iced tea and tried to process _him_ approaching _her_.

"You're clever, just like he always said."

"I must warn you - I'm susceptible to flattery; though you didn't quite answer my question. What do you want from me?" Maka gave him a coy smile as she leaned forward, resting her forearms on the cool glass table.

"Where's Soul?" His eyebrows shot up as he took another sip of his drink, in recognition more so than surprise. He set the cup back down, repeating her question before a smile crossed his face.

"He told me you'd be coming; you must be Maka. I can see the attraction. Soul's got good taste in women; just like I do." He reached out and touched her hand, pausing for a moment to find the words.

"Honestly, I don't know why you put up with him." At that, Maka grinned and agreed with him. They laughed for a while, a silence falling over them as they continued watching the rain. "Soul shot you in the head?" She didn't freeze up or get angry, only hummed in affirmation. It, like the death of everyone she loved, was simply a fact. Wes commented under his breath, something to the effect of 'i taught him better than that'.

As he finished up his drink he pardoned himself to get them both refills; when he came back and gave her a new tea, he smoothed out his shirt before looking up at her questioningly. "What were we just talking about?" She took a long drink, and he patiently waited for her to finish. She settled in her chair and spread out her arms slightly.

"Soul. Where is he?" It was Wes' turn to take a long slug of his hot drink, making a thoughtful face as he tried to remember his brother's instructions.

"He's at the Twin Farms hotel, in Vermont. I'll draw you a map... Do you know why I'm helping you?" Maka was sure she didn't want to know the answer, but it came as a surprise when he said that Soul would want him to help her; she told Wes she didn't believe him.

"How else is he ever going to see you again?"

* * *

The drive was long and silent, but Maka was more determined now to finish things. She never dreamed she would get this far - standing at the doorway to the room she knew he was staying in. It was a miracle in itself that none of the others had killed or maimed her by now. She picked the lock and entered the room, warily approaching the large living area; there was a bar, and large french doors that lead to an outside garden area. She heard no noise coming from inside of this room, and she continued to inspect around each corner. Finally, she burst outside and got into position, ready to cut him in half-

"Freeze, mommy!"

"Bang, bang! Oh, man, Soma, she got us!" Soul shouted while collapsing. The little girl that had been standing beside him was peaking through her hair to look at Maka, who was stunned and unable to move. Soul told her to hurry it up and fall down already, and she grudgingly did so while he continued to narrate their play.

"But! Little did Scythemeister Albarn know, little Soma was playing possum! She is impervious to bullets."

"I'm pervious to bullets, mommy!"

"Yeah, yeah, no one likes a show-off; you're playing possum, lay back down. So, as the smirking killer advanced on what she _thought_ was a bullet-ridden corpse - that's when Soma fired!" The little girl sprung up and pointed her fake gun at Maka, yelling 'bang, bang' and smiling. When Maka didn't move, the happy expression left her face. "You're dead, mommy. So, die." Soul's voice drifted to her, making her realize that this was all a game to the little girl - _her_ little girl. She gasped, as if in pain, before looking back to Soul for the next cue. He supplied the girl's name for her and she promptly caused a scene.

"Oh, Soma! I should've known! You... are... the best!" Maka collapsed to the ground and dropped her sword. She heard the patter of bare feet as Soma ran to her and knelt down, big tears in her eyes. "Mommy! Don't go back to sleep, we were just pretend-shooting!" Maka's eyes slowly opened as she reached up and pushed the hair out of her face. She had Maka's ashy blonde hair and Soul's dazzling red eyes. As she sat up, Maka couldn't help but sweep her up in a hug.

Her baby was alive; this was more than she had ever bargained for. If Soul cut her down tonight, she might be okay with that.

"I told her you were asleep, and that one day, you would wake up and come be with her. And she asks me, how's momma gonna know what I look like? And I told her the sappiest thing. I said, 'Momma's been dreaming about you.'" Maka tried her hardest to ignore Soul, to focus on the way her baby felt in her arms, when her small voice piped up.

"Did you dream of me, mommy? I dreamed of you." Her arms tightened around her daughter as a few tears fell.

"Every single night, baby."

"I waited a long time for you to wake up, mommy." She glared daggers at Soul from behind her daughter's back. He had succeeded in taking her from Maka, in keeping this child a secret from her. Maka pushed away from Soma and smiled as she took in her small form. "You're such a pretty girl." Soma blushed and thanked her, and Soul's voice came between them again.

"Soma, tell mommy what you said when you saw her picture." Bashfully, she hid behind her hands and shook her head, and Soul gave her a soft look before saying it would make Maka feel good. She relented, hands still covering her red face.

"I said you're the most beautifulest woman I ever saw in the whole wide world." Soul continued to compliment Maka, and she continued to ignore him. He told their daughter that Maka was mad at him, though he didn't specifically tell her what had transpired. Soma demanded something to eat and they all went inside, seating themselves at the bar while Soul made sandwiches.

"Our little girl learned about life and death the other day. Tell her about Emilio, sweetie."

"I killed him! It was terrible. I took him out of his fish bowl to play, I didn't know fish needed water to live; I don't, and I'm fine! Anyway, I accidentally stepped on him while we were playing."

"And how did you know Emilio was dead?"

"He wasn't flapping anymore..." Soul handed her a sandwich and cleaned his knife before angling towards Maka.

"What better way to illustrate life and death? A fish flapping, a fish not flapping. So powerful, even a child can comprehend its severity."

After they dined and Soma filled the silence, Soul announced it was her bedtime. As he tucked her in, he began to tell her the story of him and her mother.

"Y'know, Soma, I really do love mommy... Like you loved Emilio. But I did to her what you did to him."

"You STOMPED on mommy?" She sounded incredulous, and it almost made him laugh. But his face was blank, the look in his eyes somber as he recalled his mistake.

"Worse... I shot mommy. Not pretend shooting. I shot her for real. I knew what would happen to her if I did it... But I didn't consider what it would do to me."

"What happened to you, daddy?"

"I was very sad. And that's when I learned, that some things - once you do 'em, they'll never be undone." Soma immediately turned her attention to Maka, demanding answers - what had it felt like, was she ok now, how did she manage, ect. Maka walked towards the bed and laid down with her, smiling and kissing her on the forehead.

"It just made me sleep. That's why I haven't been around - I've had a serious case of the sleepies."

"But you're awake now, right?" Her eyes were wide and innocent. Maka could lose herself in those eyes, but she smiled and nodded. Soul asked if they would like to watch a video before she went to bed, and she immediately demanded _Shogun Assassin_.

"No, it's too long honey-"

"No, it's not." Maka's voice stopped him in his tracks and he relented, closing the doors and leaving them to their movie.

* * *

Once she was certain Soma was asleep, Maka leaned down and kissed her on the side of her face before getting out of the bed. She tucked her daughter under the covers and laid her stuffed giraffe beside her, which she instantly snuggled up to. Maka gave in and leaned down, running her fingers through her hair while she slept. Deciding she had put it off long enough, she made her way out of the bedroom and closed the door without a sound.

Descending the stairs, she wasn't surprised to see Soul perched on a barstool, waiting for her with his gun drawn. "I was admiring your sword; how's Kilik?" She sat down on the couch and smiled hesitantly at him. "Kilik's good."

"I was surprised to hear he made you a sword."

"I just dropped your name and he went right along with it." Soul ignored her in favor of examining her blade, and she simply watched him and waited for any signs of an attack. He knew she would kill him - and he would be the first to strike, most likely. But his timing had to be perfect.

"I suppose we should settle this between swords; the only problem is if we should do it tonight, during the full moon, or go old school -which you know I'm a sucker for- and we wait till sunrise." As he finished his sentence, she lunged for his sword, which was perched on a chair nearby. He countered this by shooting a fruit bowl on the table in front of her. She fell back into her seat and waited for him to circle around to the other side of the bar, all while going on about how they needed to clear the air before one of them died.

"Now, since I know you'd never tell _anyone_ , much less me, about your true feelings, I've come up with a solution that I think would benefit us both." Soul's hand was fast as he pulled the trigger, a strange dart digging into the skin of her thigh as she cried out, clutching the area painfully. "What the fuck did you just shoot me with?"

"Truth serum. Hey, hey, paws off; or I'll stick another one right in yer cheek." He leaned down as he explained how it worked, grabbing a large bottle of moonshine and pouring himself a shot. He drank the whole thing before pouring himself yet another shot of it.

"Now, I've got a point to prove; and in the time it takes me to do that, the serum should kick in. So, here's my analogy. I love comics. My favorite happens to be Superman, as you know. Not a great comic, not very well drawn - but the mythology? It's absolutely unique to that single series." He took another slug and filled the small glass before settling in a bar stool.

"The staple of superheroes is that there's the person, and the alter ego or superhero. Batman has Bruce Wayne, Spiderman has Peter Parker, Iron Man has Tony Stark. When that character wakes up, he's Peter Parker; the costume makes him Spiderman. Superman, however, never becomes Superman. He was born that way, and he wakes up every day as Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent. Kent's suit and glasses is the costume that Superman wears to blend in with humans. And what is he like?

"He's weak, he's unsure of himself... Clark Kent is Superman's critique of the whole human race. Sort of like Maka Albarn, versus Mrs. Justin Law."

"So, the point emerges."

"You would've worn the costume of Arlene Law, but you were born Maka Albarn. And every morning you woke up, you'd still be Maka Albarn. Oh, you can take out the needle." She ripped it from the leg and, despite wanting to throw it at him, she set in on the table and rubbed a hand over the wound. "You callin me a superhero?"

"I'm calling you a killer. A natural-born killer. That's never gonna change; no matter how far you move, how much you change your surroundings. You can't blend in with the worker bees, because you're a renegade killer bee. So, here's my first question: Did you really think your life in El Paso was gonna work out?" He saw the lie try and weasel its way through her teeth, but it got stuck as tears sprung to her eyes. She wanted to say yes so badly, prove him wrong, but it was spilling out of her faster than she could control.

"No... But I would've had Soma!" She pointed an accusatory finger at him, glaring.

"You'd've made a better mom than me; but you can't just pretend you're something you're not just because you think that's how it should be." He got up and sat down opposite of her, on a chair. He leaned forward and the silence hung heavily over them.

"Next question: Why did you run away from me, with my baby?"

"Do you remember the last assignment you sent me on?"

"Of course. Kim Diehl."

"I got sick on the plane... And again after I had landed. I got paranoid; what if I really was pregnant?"

* * *

"Easy to use, remove cap and urinate on absorbent end and wait five minutes, results appear in window." Maka left the stip sit on the counter and examined herself thoroughly in the mirror as her watch ticked away. Her stomach was still flat, her breasts weren't swollen. She kicked her foot against the tile and played with her wet hair, impatient.

She still had a couple of minutes to go, but she got antsy and looked at the strip. She grabbed the box and checked it. Maka checked the box three times to make sure it was right - she was pregnant. She looked at it in different lighting. She read it upside down and backwards. She cursed under her breath.

 _'What I didn't know was that somewhere on my journey, I had been spotted. With me in LA, it didn't take long for Kim to send an assassin of her own.'_

There was a knock on her hotel room door and she warily called out a hello.

"Hi, my name is Jacqueline Dupree, I'm with the hotel's hospitality team; we have a gift for you!"

"Oh, thanks, uh, just leave it there?" She accidentally dropped the stick and bent down to grab it; a shotgun went off and blew through her door. Maka rolled backwards and hid behind the bathroom door. Was this really happening? The one time she doesn't want someone to find her, the one time she needed to be careful, someone actually shows up? She heard Jacqueline enter the room and she kicked the door closed, getting her attention on it as she dove behind the bed and emerged with a gun, peeking out from the bottom corner.

"You pretty good with that shotgun?"

"Not that I have to be at this range, but I'm a fuckin surgeon with this shotgun."

"Well guess what, bitch; I'm better than Annie Oakley and I got you right in my sights. So let's talk. Just before you blew a hole in the door, I found out I was pregnant."

"Are you fuckin with me?" The incredulous look on her face was priceless, and Maka slowly sat up, keeping Jacqueline in her sights.

"Any other time you'd be right... But right now, I'm just scared shitless for my baby. There's a strip by the door that says I'm pregnant, the box is there too - please, look." Jacqueline slowly backed up and glanced down at the floor, finding the stick and box easily. She reached down and grabbed them both, reading quickly before throwing them both down, frustrated.

"Okay! So say I believe you. What then?"

"We both just go home." Jacqueline continued to back up, closing the door and staring at Maka through the shotgun hole before hastily congratulating her and beating a hasty retreat.

* * *

"Before that strip turned blue, I was a woman - your woman. I was a killer that killed for you. Before that strip turned blue, I would've jumped a motorcycle onto a speeding train - for you. But once that strip turned blue, I couldn't do any of those things anymore... Because I was gonna be a mother. Can you understand that?" They had relocated to the seating area in the outside garden, and he was almost done his bottle of moonshine. He took in her story silently, and was mulling it over.

"Yes. But why didn't you tell me then, instead of now?"

"Because I didn't want you to claim her as yours. It was the right decision and I made it for my daughter; she deserved a clean slate. But you would've plunged her into a world of darkness. I had to choose, and I chose her." Maka's decision had been so clear to her then, in the moment she found out she was pregnant. She knew that she would never want her daughter to get involved with the dark things she had done - and she could never give her the choice of doing it, either. It would kill Maka to see her daughter become her.

"Y'know, five years ago, if I had to make a list of impossible things that could never happen, you pulling a coup de grace on me and bustin a cap on my crown... That would've been at the top of the list. I'd have been wrong, wouldn't I?"

"In this instance, yes, you'd be right. When you never came back, I assumed Kim Diehl was the victor. And for the record, letting someone that loves you think you're dead is kinda fucked up and not cool, just saying... I mourned you for three months, and in the third month, I tracked you down. I was trackin the assholes I thought snuffed you - but I find you..." He had an angry look on his face, and he seemed to be talking more to himself than her at this point. The bottle only had two more shots in it - one now, as he poured himself another drink.

"Not only are you not dead, you're getting married to some fuckin _jerk_! And you're pregnant? I overreacted; I can admit that much."

" _Overreacted_? You killed eight people and you... call that an overreaction?"

"I'm a murdering bastard with no rationality and no mercy... And if you break my heart, there are some consequences. You saw some of them. Was my reaction really that surprising?" Maka's entire demeanor turned icy.

"Yes, it was. Could you do those things that you did? Of course. But I never thought you would, or could, do that to me."

"I'm sorry, but you thought wrong." Maka lifted her sword up and looked into his eyes. He knew this was it.

"We have unfinished business."

"Baby... you ain't kiddin." His sword had casually been laying on the table, and he grabbed it with lightning fast speed and swiped at her. She tilted back in her chair and pushed it back onto four legs with her own sword, pulling it out of the sheath a bit to block Soul's next attack. She used her feet to move the chair closer to him, pinning his sword under hers. He used this against her, pulling hard on his sword and making hers fly from the scabbard and across the garden. As his sword flew towards her heard, she thought quickly that she might die. But her body was quicker; Maka used her sheath to capture his blade, pulling it close and knocking his hand away to deliver the final blow.

She hit the muscles around his heart, the last hit bringing blood from his mouth. He was taking in shallow breaths, and he slowly caught her eyes. "Excalibur taught you the five-point-palm exploding-heart technique?"

"Course he did."

"Why didn't you tell me?" For some reason, Maka felt her heart twist over his words. It was the same reason that Black*Star never told her that he knew the technique, the same reason she never told Soul it was his baby until when it was too late.

"Because... I'm a bad person." Her tears were pouring from her eyes, and he smiled at her, closing his eyes.

"Nah... You're not a bad person. You're a cool person. You're my favorite person." He was getting sappy on her, and Maka relished in the moment instead of berating him.

"But, every once in a while, you can be a real cunt." The easy smile on his face and his sarcastic words made her laugh as he wiped the trail of blood from his chin. She couldn't stop looking at him, a voice inside of her head saying this is it.

"How do I look?" She reached over and fixed his suit lapels, fussing over his hair. Her hand ended up on his as she met his eyes, and he felt satisfied that she was with him for the last big adventure he would go on.

"You look ready." Her hand slowly left his, and he almost reached out for her; but rather than embarrass himself, he stood up and straightened his shirt, standing tall with his chin high. She smiled in encouragement and he gave her his signature cool look.

Soul turned away from her for the last time and walked off towards the trees, pausing on his fifth step; he wobbled for a minute, then without a sound, fell all at once. Maka almost couldn't take her eyes off of his corpse, a finality in the air as she wiped her tears away. An hour later, when she finally tore herself from the scene, she grabbed Soma and drove away.

The next morning, waking up beside her little girl had almost been too much. She turned the tv on and went into the bathroom, taking a cold shower. When she finished, she heard Soma preparing some cereal for herself and she lost it in the middle of the bathroom.

Maka was laying on the floor, alternating between fits of laughter and weeping. The loss of everyone she had known was staggering, and killing had always taken a small toll on her; but the fortune of killing them all _and_ getting her baby back was overwhelming. At best, she would've come out of this and killed herself, having no other reason to live. But this went beyond best-case scenario. This was reality. Maka cleaned herself up and opened the door, joining Soma on the bed and hugging her fiercely. She didn't have to look over her shoulder anymore, and her daughter would never know that kind of fear.

They could live peacefully together, and they didn't need anyone else but each other.

 **THE LIONESS HAS REJOINED WITH HER CUB... ALL IS RIGHT IN THE JUNGLE**

* * *

bam, that's my reverb! i hope it came out as well as i think it did, enjoy!

 _KILL SOUL_

 _Deadly Viper Assassination Squad / DEADLY WEAPONS AND MEISTERS SQUAD_

 _1\. O-Ren Ishii (Cottonmouth) - TSUBAKI NAKATSUKASA (Dark Arm)_

 _2\. Vernita Green (Copperhead) - MEDUSA GORGON (Snake Charmer)_

 _3\. Budd (Sidewinder) - BLACK*STAR (Ninja Assassin)_

 _4\. Elle Driver (California Mountain Snake) - BLAIR (Feline Fatale)_

 _5\. Bill (Snake Charmer) - SOUL EVANS (GRIGORI EATER)_

 _Guest Starring:_

 _OX FORD (EARL MCGRAW)_

 _HARVAR D. ECLAIR (EDGAR MCGRAW)_

 _DEATH THE KIDD (JOHNNY MO)_

 _ELIZABETH THOMPSON (SOPHIE FATALE)_

 _PATRICIA THOMPSON (GOGO)_

 _SOMA (B.B)_

 _KILIK RUNG (HATTORI HANZO)_

 _POT OF FIRE/POT OF THUNDER (HANZO'S AID)_

 _GIRIKO (BUDD'S BOSS)_

 _NOT! STUDENTS (CRAZY 88)_

 _RAGNAROK (RUFUS)_

 _JUSTIN LAW (TOMMY PLIMPTON)_

 _MEME (JANEEN)_

 _ANYA (ERICA)_

 _TSUGUMI (JOLEEN)_

 _WES EVANS (ESTEBAN VIHAIO)_

 _JACQUELINE DUPREE (KAREN KIM)_

 _EXCALIBUR (PAI MEI)_

 _STEIN (BUCK)_

 _Beatrix Kiddo (Black Mamba)- MAKA ALBARN... THE BRIDE... SCYTHEMEISTER... MOMMY_


End file.
